


The Isle of Secrets

by Machiner6



Series: The Cities of Living Gold [3]
Category: Inca (Video Game), Taiyou no Ko Esteban | Les Mystérieuses Cités d'or | The Mysterious Cities of Gold
Genre: AI, Artificial Intelligence, F/M, M/M, Multi, cyborg, hologram, space travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:15:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 38,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27136492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Machiner6/pseuds/Machiner6
Summary: Esteban and his friends make their return visit to Barcelona, but what they find may make their plans difficult.
Relationships: Dorad Elo/Celt Kardiae, Mendoza/Laguerra
Series: The Cities of Living Gold [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1924732
Kudos: 7





	1. No Place Like Home

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Daughter of the Sands](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25015267) by [Sandentwins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sandentwins/pseuds/Sandentwins). 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Esteban and his friends make their return visit to Barcelona, but what they find may make their plans difficult.

The _Solaris_ Mark II softly trolled its way toward Barcelona, its hull glinting in the sunlight as waves crashed against it.

Its passengers had arranged this destination to cool down after another long adventure, just as they had before. None of them had much to go on as to where their next adventure would be, except for the fact that the next City of Gold was in Egypt. But the crew figured that could be worked out down the line.

As the _Solaris II_ inched closer to the crowded port, its improvised captain, Tao had been shown an extra trick by its on-board intelligence, Heva: By deploying a myriad of holographic projectors and reconfiguring sections of the hull, the Solaris could pass as the very galleon that tried to attack its original in the past. None in the port would know the difference when it landed.

\-----

After the group of seven followed a cobblestone road from the port into the city, Athanaos looked around the square, staring up at the huge cathedral.

Curious, he asked his son, “So, this is where you used to live, Esteban?”

Esteban followed his gaze, then pointed to the cathedral as he answered, “Yes, Father Rodriguez and the monks of that church took care of me since I was...um, adopted.”

Mendoza shook his head and laughed, “Be glad you weren’t here when it rained!” winking at Esteban.

Looking up, Esteban finally noticed the increasingly cloudy sky, and told his father, “Practically everyone knew my name around here just for that reason,” Esteban tried not to cringe, then cleared his throat. “But…there were some good times, too.”

Athanaos just chuckled, “I can imagine, my son.”

“I was here, too,” Zia added, rolling her eyes as they continued walking, “Those conquistadors had me up there,” she pointed to a balcony on one of the taller buildings. “They were going to hand me over to the Queen of Spain, I couldn’t imagine what for!”

Isabella huffed as she shook her head, “Why, I would’ve smacked her in the face for that!”

Noticing a shocked look in Mendoza’s face, Zia hastily insisted, “Come on, we’ve no time to waste on such idiocies!” before whispering, “That would’ve been nice!” to Isabella.

Sancho changed the subject, “I wo-wo-wo-wonder how Pedro is doing?”

“I was thinking the same thing,” nodded Mendoza. Staring down the myriad of streets, he pointed down the narrowest of them all, and stated, “And I think I know where he is. Come on!”

And the group of seven people trudged into the narrow street, some members gaining odd looks from the citizens.

Isabella tried to keep her weapons out of sight under the new cloak she found in her ship cabin, hoping some wouldn’t get the wrong idea.

Soon, the group closed in on a familiar-looking building where three roads met in a T-crossing. They could hear the voices of several dozen people clamoring inside, and Mendoza and Esteban recognized it on the spot.

The two of them smiled as they stepped closer to it, the other members both curious and slightly nervous.

Tao finally asked as they entered the open door, “How long has it been since we were here last? Feels like years!”

“Traveling from country to country can do that,” Mendoza assured the boy. “Probably a few months, at least.” Chuckling again, he assured the boy, “But don’t worry about that, let’s go see our friend!”

\-----

Pedro just finished cleaning his latest goblet when he noticed a blue cape fluttering in the doorway. The sight was so abrupt that his jaw dropped with awe, a scene Pedro never thought would happen since his parting with Sancho.

“Hey, barman! Where’s my refill?” One of the gruff patrons complained.

“On it right now, sir!” Pedro admitted as took the man’s cup.

Mendoza led the group to a pair of wide tables, while he himself stepped toward the bar.

Seizing a chance, Pedro waved across the bar and greeted his friend, “Mendoza! Welcome back! Where have you been all this time?”

“Well, if you must know,” Mendoza answered with his familiar smirk, “We found the next City of Gold, but it’s a bit...harder to explain than the others.”

“Is that right?” Pedro asked with suspicion as he handed back the patron’s filled glass. “Well...what was in it?”

“I’d tell you, but...” Mendoza glanced at his companions over at the tables, “It’d take more than me to explain it.”

Just as Pedro tried to answer, a burly sailor bumped into Isabella’s side as he passed with his cup.

“Oof, excuse me!” she huffed.

Pedro stood there stunned, unsure how to react as he continued filling glasses.

The sailor just laughed, glancing at Isabella.

Trying to brush it off, Isabella took her seat with Tao and Sancho, the other table held by Athanaos, Esteban, and Zia.

Isabella tried to ignore the leery glances from some of the patrons, some of them throwing snide comments in her direction. Esteban, meanwhile, couldn’t help but stare out the window, the sunlight fully blacked out by clouds now. He looked at Zia, then Athanaos, then huffed, “I have a bad feeling about this.”

“If anyone tries to come for you,” Zia giggled. “We’ll have your back!”

Athanaos nodded, rubbing his new black wig.

“Hey, lady!” One of the conquistadors finally spoke up, “What ship brought you to Barcelona? Your outfit’s too fancy for a place like this!”

Isabella went red in the face, feeling for her gun.

“A galleon,” she huffed. “Just a regular ship, that’s none of your business!”

“I understand,” the man chortled as he walked forward. “Still, it’s not every day a lovely piece of work wanders in here!”

Smacking his hand out of the way, Isabella growled, “Leave me alone, I haven’t gotten my drink yet,” then walked toward the bar.

Then, with a heavy burst of thunder, rain began to fall. Athanaos saw his son’s anxious expression, and patted his right hand to comfort him.

Pedro’s eyes perked when she noticed Isabella’s face, “Mendoza, what is she doing here? In MY tavern?”

“It’s all right, she’s on our side,” insisted Mendoza.

Then Isabella reached into her belt, pulled out a pouch of orichalcum coins, and ordered as she slammed them to the counter, “Your strongest ale, for all of us!” Glancing at Esteban, she added, “And juice for the kids, if you would.”

Pedro’s eyes went wide as he counted the coins, then answered in awe, “Uh...I’ll get right on it, ma’am!”

Mendoza whispered to her, “You know those aren’t worth anything, right?”

“Shhh, let me have my fun,” teased Isabella.

As Pedro filled one glass after another, two heavyset men collected the glasses and brought them to the various tables.

But just as Esteban finally got a chance to drink his orange juice in peace, the front door banged open, and in walked an all-too-familiar figure in a royal Spanish robe with a long beard.

He cleared his throat and asked, “Excuse me, has anyone seen Esteban, the Child of the Sun?”

Trying to hold his ground, Athanaos interrupted, “Sir, this is my son you’re talking to!”

But several men just laughed, and the official replied with a puzzled look, “Are you sure, sir? You don’t look like him.”

And Esteban asserted himself as he looked at the patrons, “Wait, it’s not a festival today, is it? Surely a little storm never hurt anyone?”

Mendoza turned around and stepped toward the boy, looking at the eager patrons crowding around his spot.

“What’s this all about?” he asked, feeling for his sword.

“There he is! Right here!” One of the men pointed as he tried to stand again.

“Yes, that’s Esteban!” One of the soldiers insisted, pointing the boy’s way. “He’s returned to help the sun shine again!”

“No, we’ve returned to relax!” Esteban countered.

“He’s right, we’ve all been through a lot,” Mendoza huffed. “And I think you should give this boy some space!”

A drunk sailor near the back hobbled forward and drawled, “Esteban...(hic)...and a tall, ssstrong beauty...(hic) in the same room? This must be my...lucky day!”

Seeing the man inches from her body, Isabella kicked the drunkard in the groin, then punched him in the face for good measure.

Before she could go further, Mendoza grabbed Isabella by the shoulders and begged, “Wait, Isabella, there’s no need for violence!”

“Yeah, you’re right!” A soldier yowled from the back, “Put that woman away before she causes more trouble!”

“Wait, that lady is with _you_ , Mendoza?” One of the conquistadors laughed, “My, I would never have guessed! How does an upstanding sailor like you find such a thick-headed woman like that?”

Mendoza barely had time to finish his ale before Esteban sprang from his chair, nicking Isabella’s flintlock from its holster. Then he ran toward the window, back against the glass, and aimed down the gun’s sight at the bearded man.

Trying to take charge of the situation, he demanded, “You again?! What are you planning to do? Drag me by the wrists to the street? In case none of you noticed, I turned thirteen years old while I was away!”

“Say, that’s not a bad idea!” someone muttered to another.

But the official just smiled and asked, “Come now, Esteban! Put that down, you are not that kind of person!”

Esteban just scoffed, the pistol never wavering, sarcastically replying, “You’re right. *I* would never hurt anyone, especially not a defenseless child!” Lowering the pistol, he shouted, “I’m leaving, thank you!” and tried to make his way toward the back door he remembered was behind the bar.

Then, the crowd saw an advantage and grabbed Esteban by the wrist, the gun falling from his grip. Isabella had to lean over a wooden partition to grab it.

Seeing the crowd was getting rowdier by the second and Esteban was in danger, Mendoza released Isabella and whispered, “On second thought, give them what for!”

“Thank you,” she grunted.

Pedro found himself puzzled, perplexed at what was taking place in his pub.

The tavern then erupted with action. Several sailors and soldiers rose from their tables, eager smiles on many of their faces as they bore down on Esteban.

He, Zia, and Tao tried to lose themselves in the crowd, trying not to be seen, with Sancho and Athanaos trying to protect them.

“Come back, Esteban!” the official called. “The city’s flooding by the second!”

Isabella, meanwhile, snared two men in her whip, pulling them away from the boy and punching others in the face. Two men tried to grab her by the shoulders, but she just ducked out of the way and knocked them to the floor by blows to the chest.

Sancho looked back and asked, “Wha-wha-what are you doing to them?”

Isabella gloated while twisting a bulky man’s left arm, “Teaching these men to not treat me like some damsel!”

On a whim, Zia couldn’t help but cheer, “You tell them!”

Just before a husky-looking sailor reached for her as he drawled, “I’d love to take you to sea with me, show you the world!”

“Sorry, I’ve already been there!” and kicked him in the groin. The man squealed in pain as he toppled to the floor.

More patrons started throwing bottles and using furniture as weapons. Pedro winced as one of them smashed a chair to pieces against someone’s head while Isabella rolled out of the way.

“Hey! That’s my furniture!” Pedro screamed.

But none of the patrons heard him.

By now, the children were parallel with the bar and trying to climb into a passage near it

“Back here! I always hid here when I was younger!” Esteban told them.

Just as Isabella floored most of the people in the room, the tavern now thoroughly trashed along one wall, two men broke away and grabbed Esteban by the shoulders, just as Tao and Zia crawled into the back room, Sancho needing help joining them.

\-----

Tao stared back through the gap between several barrels, and saw Esteban being pulled out the door. Laguerra decided to load her gun, but as soon as she could aim, the group was already gone, the door slamming shut.

Zia saw the three adults still standing and waved them into the secret passage, finding the two children crouched on the floor.

“Tao, Zia? Are you alright?” asked Mendoza.

“Yes, but those people kidnapped Esteban!” Tao shrieked. “Why’d they do that?”

“I’m afraid they always did when it rained this badly,” Mendoza sighed.

Kokapetl the parrot squawked as usual.

“We can’t let them get away with this!” Zia pressed as she stood.

“I agree, that’s my son they’ve got!” Athanaos huffed, feeling a little queasy from the beer he tried.

Pedro finally appeared behind a partition, and Mendoza smugly asked, “Well, Pedro, did you get your money’s worth out of this tavern after all?”

Stunned, confused, and slightly angry at what just happened, the thin barman bowed his head and answered, “I’m not sure anymore, Mendoza.”

Sancho turned around and stared him in the face, but said nothing.

Then Pedro tried to change the subject, “How about you? What was in that next city you found?”

“Like I said, it’s a long story,” Mendoza insisted.”

Trying to get to the point, Sancho interrupted, “We-we-we-we need to save Esteban! He’s in trouble!”

But a sour look crossed his face, “What can I do? You managed just fine out there, from the looks of things!”

The kids and adults looked at each other, then Zia smirked, “We can talk about our adventures back on our ship when we’re done!”

“Ship? What ship?” Pedro asked, curious now.

Tao teased, “You didn’t know? We got a whole new _Solaris_ out of the deal!”

Mendoza hid a chuckle at that familiar sparkle in Pedro’s eyes.

But Pedro asked, “What about my tavern, though?”

Sancho stammered, “Just c-c-close it! It’ll still be here when we come back!”

“Besides, I recall you two work better as a team, right?” Mendoza pushed.

Pedro’s thin mouth crumpled as he stared at his friend, “You sure? I thought you wanted to go your own way!”

“I did, at first,” Sancho admitted, “But it wa-wa-wasn’t the same without you.”

Zia added, “I think even the Condor missed your humor a little bit!”

“He did?!” Pedro gasped. He considered his options for a moment, then cleared his throat, “All right, I’ll help you, but only if you tell Cibola to apologize for hurting my feelings!”

Hiding his irritation, Tao replied with a handshake, “Deal.”

\-----

Outside, the crowd hustled up the street, Esteban equal parts frustrated and scared from what he knew they would do to him. His tunic grew moist with the heavy rain that battered Barcelona. In a matter of minutes, with the guidance from the public official, they moved him into a wooden carriage, the same they’d used for the festival those months ago.

Leading the group of adventurers, Mendoza and Isabella were waving their swords in pursuit, trying to break up the crowd by force, but there were too many to fend off. Isabella managed to yank two people out of the group using her whip, but it set them back timewise.

Soon, they brought him to the familiar town square, and a chill ran down Esteban’s spine as three citizens were setting up an all-too-familiar wooden tower.

The crowd below clamored for Esteban to save them from this flood, and the boy was admittedly disturbed to see the streets filling with water, leaving half the crowd standing ankle-deep in it as it continued to rise.

Then two men hauled Esteban into a cart connected to a hoist running the length of the tower.

“Blast, we’re too late!” Mendoza huffed as he and the rest of the team made it.

Tao and Athanaos were particularly shocked at this.

“I don’t believe this!” the latter gasped. “What are they doing to my son?”

“We can’t do anything now, it’s up to him,” Mendoza explained. Looking at Athanaos, he added, “They want him to bring out the sun, that’s why they care so much about him.”

“Care for him like some tool, I think!” Zia huffed. "I bet that's what the Spaniards thought of me, too!"

Pedro tried not to laugh, and Isabella crossed her arms, ignoring the rising water.

Then the cart rose up along the tower, swaying in the wind. Esteban’s vertigo was gone, but the sensation was still frightening.

With his experience, Esteban tried to make sense of the situation: On the one hand, it was understandable if they wanted to be saved from something as severe as a flood, but on the other, it still wasn’t fair for a whole city to depend on a single human to change the weather.

“Come on, Esteban! Bring out the sun!” Someone shouted.

“We want the sun!” Another begged, waving their arms.

“Stop this flood for us!”

“You can save us from drowning!”

Above the roar of voices, images of Cibola, Mirada, and his mother passed through his head, and Esteban summoned his courage, and shouted, “Why do you do this to me?! Do you think I’m some GOD?”

He couldn’t hear the peoples’ answers above the roaring rain.

“I am just an ordinary boy!” He shouted again. “A boy who has seen more of the world than any of you have!”

Thunder boomed through the clouds with his words, lightning flaring behind.

Then, as the basket swung back and forth in the wind, Esteban tried to grasp how he made the sun appear that last time, wondering what he’d thought to trigger it. Then Esteban remembered that feeling, that rush of clarity and courage he felt when he flew the Condor alongside its helper. Enraged at these people who did this to him, he remembered the helper’s tactics, and breathed deeply once, twice, then screamed as the lighting struck closer and closer, “I never said this before, but...I...I...” he gulped, fighting back tears, “I...HATE YOU! I HATE! YOU!! ALL!!!”

And in a split second, a single bolt of lightning shot through the top of the tower like energy through a wire. As the clouds slowly parted with that final bolt, the crowd screamed with horror as the tower exploded into a shower of burning wood chips, the extreme heat spreading down the ropes to the basket holding Esteban captive. Trying to resist the ensuing flames and his fear, Esteban put all his weight on one rear corner, and banked it so that the cart would land in the harbor, near the edge of the plaza that backed onto the sea. All shocked to see the boy fall, Mendoza’s team raced across the square to that spot, followed by the citizens.

Esteban thrust himself out of the sinking basket, and tried to swim to the surface. He saw Mendoza’s toned arms as he hauled the boy up, and half of the crowd tried to alert the rest that the sun was indeed coming out, sunbeams streaking through as the floodwater drained out of the streets.

Coughing water out of his lungs, Esteban looked around, spotting the scorched, fallen tower, and he asked Mendoza, “Whoa...did...did I do that?”

Athanaos stepped forward, hugged his son, and heartily answered, “Yes, I think you did.”

Zia, Tao, Pedro and Sancho were all cheering at the spectacle they saw, happy to see that Esteban pulled such a risky stunt and made it out alive.

Zia in particular found herself amazed by the event, thinking, “And I thought my ability scared people!”

Isabella stepped forward in disbelief, while some of the conquistadors did crowd control.

Then, his bravery back, Esteban stepped toward the crowd and shouted, gesturing at the pile of ashes in the middle of the square, “You see this? I told you I didn’t want to be hoisted up that thing, and now you can’t do that anymore!”

Several people looked at him with shock, others with awe, and the bearded official’s jaw hung open as if what just happened shouldn’t have been possible.

Finally, the official stepped forward, stammered, “You...You destroyed the whole tower! Why?”

“Because I’ve had it up to here with...changing your weather on a whim!” Esteban huffed back.

Athanaos pointed at the man, “You should be ashamed of yourself, making a mockery of my son this way!”

“He brought out the sun, didn’t he?” Someone said to another.

“And the flood’s gone!” A woman cheered.

Isabella had her gun trained on the official, and she huffed, “You sure put a lot of faith in that boy. Kind of unnaturally so.”

Noticing the pistol, the official looked back and forth, then raised his arms half-way as Esteban and his group gave him a long stare.

With him and several townsfolk so disturbed to be held this way, the bearded man gulped and finally asked, “All right, what do you want from us?”

“Let me go about my own business,” Esteban demanded. “And the next time we come back, treat me like a normal citizen, not some...god!”

“Come back? Where are you going?” The man asked.

“That’s not your concern, sir,” Mendoza retorted.

Zia looked at the others, a bit off-put by the slight harshness between both parties.

“What about the town? Do you know how many ships will be arriving this month?” One of the conquistadors asked.

“We can’t guarantee clear weather without you, Esteban,” another added.

Someone in the crowd heard this and muttered, “This is a rather silly situation, now that I think about it.”

Esteban looked back and forth, glancing up at the cathedral and the rest of the city. All his life, he’d lived here, raised by that church, and only made famous to bring the sun out at will.

Finally, he cleared his throat and stated, “I just think I deserve something in return for all those times you wanted...my help.”

“What is it that you desire?” The official asked. “Money? Gold?”

Esteban thought it over, ignoring Pedro’s excited jibbering. Then, glancing at his father, he answered, “Don’t give it to me, donate it to the monastery,” Esteban pointed to the towers of the church, “They’ve taken care of me all these years, it’s only fair. I think they’d make better use of it than me.”

“Consider it done,” the official nodded.

Glancing at Pedro one more time, Esteban requested, “And give him some compensation money for it as well.”

Some of the townsfolk laughed, but Esteban just waved his arm, and the official nodded again.

The proceedings now overwith, several high-ranking figures stepped forward to hand out a thick pouch of pouch of gold, which Esteban then passed to Pedro.

Smirking, the boy turned and asked, “Is this enough to persuade you to come with us?”

“Would I ever!” Pedro yipped. But, seeing Esteban standing where he was, Pedro stopped, set down the bag, then crouched slightly to give him a proper hug. He softly admitted, “I take back all the mean things I said about you.”

“Don’t mention it,” giggled Esteban as Pedro let go.

Finally, Zia asked, “So, are we ready?”

The townsfolk took one long look at the people around them, and, realizing now that they had no more control over this boy, simply bid the group farewell as they headed for their ship. Some of the people wondered if they’d ever see Esteban again. The official just grumbled slightly, frustrated that the governor was wrong all along.

While none on the street saw the _Solaris II_ drop its holo-cloak and re-extend into its regular configuration, someone watching from a high tower, did.

\-----

Pedro was blown away in multiple directions when he entered the ship’s lower deck. It was baffling enough to be standing on board a ship that used to be destroyed, but another when he saw the personalized cabins in its mid-bay deck.

He certainly wasn’t expecting another talking voice, but was happy Heva remained mostly stoic and calm compared to the chatty Cibola of the Golden Condor.

When Pedro opened his cabin across from Sancho’s, the surprise hit him again. The entire chamber appeared to be plated wall to wall in orichalcum, apart from checkered black-and-white floor tiles. The bed was tall, ornate, and studded with jewels along its legs and headboard.

The desk was empty, apart from a tray from the galley bearing a fresh-cooked dish of eggs and grilled fish.

As he ate, Pedro wondered what on Earth he’d missed since parting ways with Sancho, and what would become of their partnership from now on.


	2. The Seers of the Cities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mysterious Enforcer, Dorad Elo, reports to his superiors to discuss the events of his mission down on Earth. Every last detail of it.

Meanwhile, in Venus orbit...

Celt Kardiae woke up on the floor, the sheets of his partner’s bunk snaring him like a broken hammock. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dorad Elo leaning over an in-built sink, having just finished brushing his teeth.

Celt asked him, struggling against the tight sheets, “Uh, Dorad? A little help, please!”

Dorad rinsed his mouth out, then stepped toward the bed. Snickering as he helped Celt out of the sheets, he playfully asked, “Ah, good morning, Celt! How long were you like that? Restless night?”

“Maybe,” Celt replied with a faint blush as he stood up, “Flashbacks, I guess.” Then he teased, “Or maybe you just pushed me off in your sleep?”

“Oh, you!” Dorad laughed as he gently tapped Celt’s face.

Then, to not embarrass Dorad further, Celt slipped into a clean, white shirt, one of the only two shirts he owned, along with his jeans.

With Dorad already dressed in a fresh tunic and cloak himself, the two of them shared a quick breakfast – Celt finding the kitchenette surprisingly well-stocked, then Dorad heard a faint pinging noise, and realized that his computer by the window was making that noise.

He sat down, logged in, and opened his comm program. Inside, the topmost message was blinking, and as he opened it, the beeping stopped.

Listed as sent from “Dispatch”, the message simply read, “Enforcer 007: You have been summoned for mission debriefing at 0900 hours. Report to Briefing Room in Central Tower.”

“What’s that?” Celt asked, as he peered over Dorad’s shoulder.

“Just work,” Dorad grumbled as he closed the window. The terminal’s clock read 0837. “My superiors probably want to know what went down on Earth.”

“Can I come?” Celt asked, giddy with excitement.

Slightly hesitant as he walked toward the door, Dorad replied, “Mmmm, not yet. Nobody’s seen you before, and I’d prefer to not make a scene. Trust me, you’ll be safer here.”

“Aw, really?” Celt began to whine.

“I’ll ask them to see you when I get there,” Dorad advised.

But Dorad noticed Celt sprawled out on the floor and grabbing Dorad’s left ankle, unsure if Celt was just joking or not. “Come back! Please! Pleeeease!”

Finally, Dorad sighed as he reached for the doorknob, “I promise I’ll be back, Celt. I’m not going to Earth yet, if that’s what you’re so worried about!”

“But we’ve only been together for one night!” Celt pleaded as he got to his knees.

Dorad thought about the pros and cons, then, rolling his optics, Dorad knelt, rubbed Celt’s head, and answered, “All right, I’ll take you with me, you helpless baby!”

“You know me so well, drama queen!” Celt laughed, before spontaneously kissing Dorad on the mouth.

Though shocked, Dorad hugged Celt in return, wondering how long their marriage really was. If they even had married at all, he was never sure.

Then, things now settled, the two of them stepped out of the apartment and rode down the elevator.

\-----

It took a few twists and turns between buildings before they found the city’s main plaza. Celt complained about the long flight of stairs it took to reach the tower's entrance, but an elevator in the building’s lobby relieved his tension slightly.

When it stopped at a higher floor, they followed a small corridor to a large, sealed door, behind which was a wide room containing a circular table surrounded by an assortment of high-backed chairs. Three tall figures in golden robes sat at the far side, behind whom was a large window looking down onto the city, and beyond to Venus, flanked on both sides by a pair of green-cloaked enforcers, each armed with rifles far bigger than Dorad’s pistol.

Dorad stared through an oblong window bisected by the double doors, and noticed two holographic figures floating in front of the table. They seemed to be talking to the gold-robed men on the other side, but the door was soundproof. Dorad recognized the holograms right away, for he’d seen both of them in the last City of Gold he was dispatched to.

“Who are those people in there?” Celt asked, pointing to the window.

“My superiors. I can’t tell you more unless they let me,” Dorad advised. Then he turned to the man and told him, pointing to a bank of chairs in the hallway, “Wait here, I need to speak to them alone.”

“All right,” Celt sighed, taking a seat.

Then, as one of the gold-robed men smiled and waved his hand, the holograms vanished, and the door hissed open.

Dorad cautiously stepped in, and the door shut behind him. The center gold figure, an aged man with dark hair began, “Ah, Enforcer Seven. You’re just in time, we’ve been waiting for you!”

“Thank you, Seer Holkin,” Dorad bowed.

“Please, have a seat,” a woman gestured across the table.

And Dorad did so, taking his place opposite the table.

“Do you have your mission footage with you?” The woman asked, almost rhetorically.

“Always do,” chuckled Dorad as he reached for a cable on his belt. “It’s automatically recorded by my bionic implants, remember?”

They laughed, and a second man replied, “Forgive us, Enforcer Seven. It’s been several Earth months since you last departed.”

They watched him plug one end of the cord into the table, and the other into a carefully hidden port in the back of Dorad’s golden mask. The second man then opened up a holographic terminal, watching the data upload itself into the city’s systems.

Then Seer Holkin cleared his throat, and smiled, “Now then, if you would, how did your mission fare? How has the trail to Kumlar held up?”

Dorad leaned back in his chair and answered, “Oh...where to begin...In short, relatively intact along the entire stretch. Repairs at Akkad went without incident, although...I did leave the Chosen Ones some assistance.”

“Assistance?” Seer Holkin asked. “Show me the point he arrived there, Seer Gane’Ara.”

“Yes, sir,” the other man answered, winding the video footage to the relevant point. Both men watched Dorad’s visual recording of the mission, and stopped when they saw him leaving a scroll and knotting a quipu.

Seer Holkin barked, “You left them a map and a quipu! Why? You’re not supposed to leave traceable evidence! You could have compromised the whole trail!”

Dorad coughed, “Because I realized that...um, Ambrosius and his...allies already had a bead on the Chosen Ones, using their so-called 'Dark Condor'. Custodian Muran’Kel told me to add that help to delay those people from catching up,” His eyes squinted at Seer Holkin, “And I might add, the delay was successful. Besides, her profile said that Zia was the only one who could read quipus!”

Seer Holkin sat back, and sighed, “Very well, what else?”

“I made a return to aid Esteban’s team against Ambrosius’ forces, using the Tumi,” then he remembered another detail, “The Child of the Sun certainly picked an unusual type of helper. Compared to mine, I’ve never seen a pilot work so well with their vehicle before.” Clearing his throat, he finished, “Then, I helped stall Ambrosius from entering Kumlar, and that was about it.” He wanted to say more, but the Seers cut him off.

They looked at each other, and Seer Gane’Ara scrolled to a clip of footage depicting Cibola’s humanoid self.

“I see,” the woman nodded.

“Well, as I’m sure you might have guessed,” Seer Holkin added, “The Custodians already filled us in on what happened at Kumlar. You should count yourself lucky, Dorad Elo.”

The Enforcer flinched, not used to hearing his superior use his actual name. “Lucky, sir?”

The woman folded her hands and huffed, “You’ve been making more public appearances than normal, Dorad. We understand your confidant, Custodian Muran’Kel means well, but her ‘contingency’ nearly undermined your mission.”

“What...what do you mean, Seer Lunicus?” Dorad asked.

“What she means is,” Seer Holkin insisted, “Until the Chosen Ones arrive here – that is, IF they make it that far, it is your duty to ensure that no human on Earth gets the wrong idea about what our culture is, what this technology is for,” He gestured to the room around us, then raised one finger, “You are supposed to maintain the trail while avoiding contact with any humans, even the Chosen Ones, except within City walls. By using your ship’s weapons in a populated area, you could have killed someone important. Imagine the shock waves that would cause!”

Suddenly, Dorad gulped, realizing quickly that he’d made a mistake.

“Relax, Seer Holkin,” Lunicus assured him. “The great Princess said things are under control now. And look at the bright side: Ambrosius can no longer tamper with any City systems!”

“That is true,” Seer Holkin nodded.

“Wait a minute, what is this?” Seer Gane’Ara muttered.

From the inverse end of the holo-terminal, Dorad quickly realized he was looking at his unscheduled trip to Tumbes. Gane’Ara widened the screen with his hands, increasing its size for the others to see.

“That’s not on the trail!” Seer Holkin muttered.

Suddenly anxious, Dorad spoke up, “My Lord, I traveled to that village because it was my home. A...close friend of mine was there, and I had to be sure if he was alive or not since the Spanish attacked it. Besides, I’m sure you know Custodian Muran’Kel once lived near there as well.”

They stared at the recorded footage of Dorad communing with the spirit of Huayna Capac, his reunion with Celt, and their dual effort to hold back Pizarro’s men.

Seer Holkin frowned, but Seer Lunicus assured him, “Stay calm, Holkin. From the attack pattern, it appears that our Enforcer did not endanger the village.”

“Yes, as the...Great Inca’s spirit seems to have implied,” Seer Holkin admitted, an uneasy tone in his voice.

Then Dorad added, “Oh, I also noticed something...odd about Athanaos’ home.”

Gane’Ara scrolled to a point where Dorad switched to his X-ray vision.

“What is that?” the Seer asked.

“Someone or something crushed this part of the wall, using neither human weapons, nor our solar guns. The pattern of the mark is too precise and subtle for either source,” Dorad reported.

“Hmm,” Seer Holkin nodded.

Seer Lunicus advised, “An investigation into this may be prudent.”

“Perhaps,” Dorad nodded, feeling fear rising in him as the recording approached its end.

Finally, as he closed the terminal, Seer Holkin asked, “Who is this ‘Celt’ you keep referring to? The one who aided you?”

Dorad stood, pointed behind him, and explained, “I...brought him here. He is waiting outside.”

Seer Holkin tapped a switch below the table, and the door hissed open.

“You, please come forward,” Seer Lunicus commanded.

“Oh, is it my turn?” Celt asked as he walked in.

As they eyed him up and down, Seer Holkin glared at Dorad and demanded, “You brought a human civilian from EARTH?! Have you no idea what harm that could bring to this city?!”

Dorad insisted, “Please, my lord, try to hear his side!”

Seer Holkin coughed, then asked Celt, “Very well. What is your name, and where do you come from?”

“My name is Celt Kar-dee-ay,” he enunciated his last name, “I am...a misfit from Earth. Um...I can’t remember where I lived.”

Seer Holkin’s scowl deepened.

Celt felt a twitch when he noticed the man’s face, “You don’t want me here because I love him, is that it?” he demanded, pointing to Dorad.

Seer Lunicus tried to intervene, “We would never discriminate against one’s choice of romance, that is not the way of our society!”

Celt raised his arm in frustration, but Dorad clutched it as he protested, “Please, try to understand, my lords: Celt is wounded, the Spanish forces tried to kill my lover for the very same reasons!”

But Seer Holkin remained stiff, Gane’Ara giving him a puzzled look.

Holkin took a deep breath, trying to hold back his anger, and replied, “That is an arbitrary matter, Enforcer Seven. What matters is your mission, nothing more. This...friend of yours,” he waved to Celt, “Serves no purpose to us here.”

Seer Lunicus gaped at Holkin in shock, and Celt went red in the face as Dorad let go of his arm.

“How can you say such hurtful words?!” Lunicus gasped.

Seer Gane’Ara remarked, “Judging from Enforcer Seven’s video log, this man’s not very good at handling a stun gun, either.”

“SO WHAT IF I’M NOT?!” Celt screamed with rage, banging his fists on the table. “I helped stop some of those soldiers, didn’t I?”

Seer Holkin wanted to open his mouth, but Lunicus intervened, “That’s enough, Holkin,” then turned to Celt, “My apologies, sir. We’ve all been a bit...tense lately. Discrimination is not what we do.”

Celt huffed, “I’ve heard that before. What’s that man going to do next?” He pointed to Holkin, “Call me inferior and have those green-robed men shoot me?”

Holkin just sat and stared, the guards unfazed.

Celt scoffed at them, “Go ahead, fire away!” He turned his head and pointed to a bandaged spot on his right temple, “You wouldn’t be the first to try!”

The Seers were disturbed by the mark on his head.

Dorad sadly nodded, “Yes, my lords. I am still amazed myself how Viracocha spared him from a flintlock shot to the head.”

The Seers looked from Dorad’s green optics and prosthetic half-face, to Celt's bandaged wound.

But Holkin sneered, “Viracocha’s decisions will not influence our own. Whatever your relationship is, there is no room aboard the _Colombea_ for him. He will need to return to Earth with the next supply shuttle.”

Distraught, frustrated, and almost crying now, Celt begged, “But...I’m wanted down there! They’ll kill me! I don’t even know where my home is anymore!”

“That is unfortunately not our concern,” Holkin huffed.

Finally, Seer Lunicus turned and ordered, “Seer Holkin, I’ve heard enough. You are summarily dismissed from this meeting!”

“What?!” Holkin gasped as he stood.

Lunicus stared at him, "You have every right to exercise the rules of our administration, but you do not have the authority to remove anyone who enters this city by force,” Then she pointed to the door and ordered, “Now, Get! Out!”

She snapped her fingers twice, and one of the guards escorted Seer Holkin out of the room, pushed by the barrel of the guard’s rifle.

Celt watched him leave, then timidly asked the remaining Seers, “So...what about me?”

Seer Lunicus glanced at the two men, then smiled, “For now, you will be Enforcer Seven’s responsibility,” her grin widened as she added, “No one is ever useless, and with a ship this large,” she gestured to the space around them, “There is bound to be something you can do. We always have room for more hands on deck.”

Then both men breathed a sigh of relief, and Dorad answered while patting Celt on the shoulder, “Thank you, Seer Lunicus. I will ensure my partner remains safe and comfortable at my side.”

Celt just blushed.

Then Seer Gane’Ara checked something for Lunicus, and as an entry flickered on screen, Seer Lunicus grimaced, “Mmm, from these telemetry updates, it seems the Chosen Ones are already on the move again. Enforcer Seven?”

“Yes, I understand,” Dorad bowed.

Celt gasped, “Wait, what am I going to do here while you’re away?”

Then Seer Lunicus asked Gane’Ara to re-check the terminal, and as another entry flashed, Lunicus remarked, “Ah, you’re in luck, my friend! I think we can start you on Level one maintenance. Right away, if you want!”

Celt eagerly nodded, “Yes, please!”

Seer Lunicus tapped a hidden panel, and commanded, “Enforcer Seven, please show our esteemed guest to workshop three, if you would. And...see to it that he gets checked by a medic.”

Something flashed on Dorad’s gauntlet, and he nodded, “I would be honored, madam.”

“Meeting adjourned, then.” She smiled while they stood. “We wish you the best of luck in your mission.”

And the two men filed out of the chamber, off to a nearby clinic, and eventually Workshop 3 where Celt would hopefully find a place to work while Dorad went Earthside. With any luck, they’d be back together in a matter of weeks.


	3. Playback

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Pedro now on board the Solaris Mark II, Esteban's team decides to get him up to speed on how their last adventure went.

1433 hours, 30 miles from Barcelona...

“You’re descended from RANA’ORI?!” gasped Tao, his fork frozen in his hand.

Zia tried not to cringe at Tao’s loud excitement, then giggled, “Yes, Tao. I told you already. If you don’t believe me, I have something I can show you in my cabin later.”

Tao noticed the others looking at him, so he just nodded before gnawing into his sauteed pork and vegetables.

Athanaos, Isabella and Mendoza had helped cook this meal aboard the Solaris Mark II, although they had to get used to the starkly modern kitchen setup, rather than cooking over a campfire in the open.

As Esteban downed another swig of his grape juice, he remarked, “This is amazing! I haven’t tasted food this good in a long time!”

“Neither have I!” Pedro laughed before messily chewing at his food.

The meal went on with little further discussion, but when Pedro finished his plate, instead of asking for seconds like he intended, he noticed Sancho’s vaguely smug expression and asked, “What’s so funny?”

Sancho giggled, “You! I for-for-forgot how you eat like a pi-pi-pig!”

Pedro sneered back, “Well, you did too when we were in Japan! I...I was there!”

Some of the kids were wondering why they’d brought this duo back together, but didn’t complain.

Then, as the dinner ended and the guests stood, Mendoza stepped toward Pedro, clapped him on the back, and coyly asked, “Well, my friend, did you get your wish after all?”

The thin man turned around to face Mendoza, then nervously answered, “I...I’m not sure, Mendoza”

Athanaos adjusted his dark wig as he stepped closer, telling Mendoza, “If you’ll excuse me, I need to take my medicine.”

“Go ahead, but we need to make our travel plan soon,” Mendoza addressed the crowd.

“I’d rather retire myself, too,” added Isabella.

With the two adults now gone, Pedro took in the kitchen around him, and scoffed, “Is this really the Solaris? I thought it was destroyed!”

That’s when the man noticed a monitor perched above an in-built stove unit, power and temperature readings abruptly cutting to Heva’s pulsing gold head icon.

He spoke over the room’s PA speakers, “This ship is Solaris. Mark. Two, constructed One. Day. And. Twenty-three. Hours ago, by request of Captain. Tao.”

“Who said that?” yelped Pedro.

“It...it’s...uh, it’s like Mirada!” Sancho tried to explain.

“Yes, that’s the ship’s helper! Hehe, I made that too!” bragged Tao. “I called him ‘Heva’ after what I used to call the Empire of Mu!”

Then it was Zia’s turn to giggle, and Esteban stopped Tao before he could gloat any further.

“Oh joy,” Pedro groaned as he threw up his arms, “What else did I miss?”

Mendoza smiled again, “Would you like to find out, old friend?”

Pedro looked around the room at the eager faces, then he gulped, “Yes, what happened while I was...um, while I was away?”

Zia looked at him, then Esteban, and whispered, “How can we show him?”

Esteban’s eyes widened in shock, and he gulped, “Uh...hmm,” then he turned to Tao and asked, “Think this Solaris can talk to the Condor?”

“Maybe,” Tao shrugged. “We’d probably need the bridge for that.”

Then Esteban sheepishly looked at Pedro and admitted, “We can show you in a bit, Pedro. Be right back!” And the two boys raced up the hallway.

As Mendoza ordered Pedro and Sancho to clear away the dishes, Mendoza himself ordered, “Stay here, I’ll be back with the maps in a moment.”

“Sure, not like we’re going anywhere,” Pedro grumbled.

\-----

Up on the bridge, Tao approached the starboard console flanking the ship’s wheel, looked up at one of the larger screens, and asked, “Heva, are you there?”

“I am here, Tao,” the Solaris’ helper replied as its icon pulsed in one corner, “What is your command?”

Tao hesitated for a moment, trying to find the right words, “Uh...I’d like you to talk to the Golden Condor. We’d like to...um,”

Esteban cut him off, “Actually, let me talk to the Condor. Its...helper has something we need.”

“Voice unregistered, please identify yourself,” Heva countered.

And a prompt came up showing a wavering audio spectrum.

Tao and Esteban sputtered in confusion, perplexed by this level of security.

Heva beeped, “No voice detected, please retry,” and the prompt reset.

Frustrated, Esteban hunched his shoulders and carefully spoke his name.

“Passenger...Esteban, confirmed. What is your request?”

“Can you let me speak to the Golden Condor?” Esteban repeated.

“One moment please,” Heva replied, the screen going blank.

Outside, through the four metal arms holding a massive orichalcum bird in place at the bow, a console inside the bird sprang to life. As a program initialized on its monitor, the terminal inside the ship switched to a gold interface, and a man’s face with a complex flight helmet appeared, most of it covered by a translucent visor.

“Oh, hello, Esteban! How are you today?” He asked.

“I feel great, Cibola!” yipped the boy before he cleared his throat, “Anyway, I wanted to ask: Do you have a...um, a record of our mission?”

“Always have, always will,” the helper smirked. “My directive requires it.”

“May we see it?” Tao asked. “Uh...we want to show Pedro.”

Cibola’s head seemed to check something non-existent off in one corner, then he asked, “How much footage do you require?”

Tao found himself uncertain, Esteban thought it over, then he answered, “Uh...about from when we left Hormuz, to...when we landed on this ship.”

Cibola glanced away from the “camera” again, then smiled, “Very well, I’ll send you a copy right away,” before the head vanished.

Heva’s voice cut in, “Storage cards are located in one of the drawers below. Insert data card into slot for download.”

Puzzled by that extra step, Tao nonetheless checked a series of drawers beneath the control panel. The top was empty, but the second, marked by a segmented square icon, was filled with eight thin 3-inch square slices of orichalcum, all etched with faint markings not unlike those on Esteban’s medallion.

“Huh, squares of orichalcum for once,” Esteban muttered.

“Wonder what the people of Mu used these for?” Tao nodded as he plucked one of them from the rack.

It took a few tries for the two boys to locate the panel’s data slot, but when Tao inserted the card, they watched as the monitor lit up again, this time showing a green circle with Mu symbols appearing in a growing spiral formation.

When the spiral reached the edge of the circle, Heva barked, “Download complete,” as the card ejected itself.

“Have a nice day!” teased the Condor before it powered down again.

\-----

Mendoza unlocked the door to his cabin and found his sea charts on the desk, where he’d last left them. As he rolled two of them up and began to step back out, he almost bumped into Tao and Esteban running back up the hallway.

Mendoza followed them to the kitchen, and found that Pedro and Sancho had successfully finished cleaning up.

“Well done, you two!” he congratulated them.

Pedro whipped around, startled to hear Mendoza return so quickly. He scratched the back of his head and stammered, “Thank you, Mendoza! I’m always happy to help!” Although he wasn’t sure if those words were true.

Sancho noticed the maps Mendoza was holding, already curious as to what he had in mind, while Pedro was transfixed on the gold data card in Tao’s right hand.

“What have you got there, Tao?” asked Pedro.

Tao glanced at the card for a second, then replied, “It’s our latest adventure! Take me to...your cabin, and I’ll show you!”

And Pedro followed him down the hall, Sancho not minding being by himself with the others. Tao brought Pedro back to his cabin, and, with the tap of a wall switch adjacent to the desk, showed Pedro a feature that he didn’t know existed.

Pedro watched with awe as two panels in the wall slid up, one revealing a dark, rectangular monitor, and a thinner one below that, which deployed an orichalcum keyboard over the desk, its sides studded with connection ports.

“What is this, Tao?” the man finally asked.

Trying to keep his words simple, Tao answered, “It’s hard to describe, but among other things...um, you can input orders into this machine by writing, using these buttons,” he pointed to the keyboard, “and it obeys your commands!”

But Pedro could only stare in confusion, asking, “How did you know this was in my cabin?”

“I...helped build this ship, every cabin has one,” Tao admitted while scratching his head. “Anyway,” he flashed the golden square card once again, “In this case, this one can show you how our last adventure went. Watch!”

Pedro watched him touch a small red stud in one corner of the keyboard, and the monitor lit up with that familiar red sun icon, which settled in the top left corner over a blank, golden interface. Then, as Tao slipped the data card into a slot in the keyboard’s right side, a second progress spiral led to a gold square marked “Condor VidLog: 1533-08a09f” at its top.

As Tao tapped a thick “Return” button on the keyboard, he heard Mendoza calling his name, explained, “Uh, I think Mendoza needs me with the others. Enjoy the show!” then stepped out of the cabin.

Pedro just sat in his desk chair in anticipation. The video log began with the Golden Condor’s external camera looking out at Hormuz, the last place he saw before he and Sancho left in a galleon. He felt a bit miffed as the machine’s heads-up display tracked the leaving ship while Mendoza ran toward the golden bird.

Several events followed as the craft launched into the desert, from an amusing stop for goat milk, to a surprise visit with another orichalcum vehicle just as the Condor reached the city of Akkad, the Mountain of the Moon. He couldn’t tell what the kids found when they got inside, but the arrival of Ambrosius’ flying ship and an evil, silvery knockoff called the “Dark Condor” were certainly not a good sign.

All the while, Pedro found himself surprised at how intimate the Golden Condor appeared to be with Esteban and the rest of the crew. Its sentience, a helper named “Cibola”, talked like Esteban was his best friend, that their adventure was the best thing the vehicle ever knew. So why did it hate his and Sancho’s guts? And more was the question: where was Sancho? Last Pedro saw, that man had jumped ship trying to return to Hormuz.

And then came another factor: All of a sudden, Isabella Laguerra joined their crew, pouring out her soul about her horrid childhood under the Doctor and Malinché, abused and tortured by the latter to be who she was now. And this motivated her to change sides and help Esteban and his friends take down Ambrosius once and for all.

Pedro noticed his jaw was slack when he heard this. Now Isabella’s cold, sharp behavior from Patiala suddenly made sense.

Then, after a jump-cut to a site called the Oasis of Manfurah, Pedro saw that Sancho had been rescued from Ambrosius and the Laguerras who held him hostage as ransom. Not only that, but the kids had also made off with one of two Veils of Princess Rana’Ori.

Then things really came to a head when the Condor reached a desert encampment belonging to the Chaldeans, one of the oldest Bedouin tribes. It wasn’t long after the crew arrived that Ambrosius’ team followed as well, along with Athanaos’ hijacked Olmec craft. Esteban and Isabella took it upon themselves to take the fight to Ambrosius with the Condor, using its energy gun to attack his ship while Tao and Zia acquired the second veil from the Bedouins, and left to utilize them elsewhere. Pedro was on the edge of his seat as that weird orichalcum ship came back and opened fire on Ambrosius’ ship, while Esteban went head-to-head with the Dark Condor, whom Pedro just now realized was possessed with the mind of Malinché, uploaded into its systems like a helper. The ensuing battle was so hectic, Pedro strangely wished he’d been there to see it for himself. It was chilling to watch Cibola run a program he’d coded into the Dark Condor, causing it and Malinché’s consciousness to melt into inert orichalcum forever.

Then everything seemed to calm down when Esteban and Zia made their way into the fourth City of Gold, Kumlar, where the Condor and that weird ship were drawn in by a tractor beam. As the statue’s hands closed around the two vehicles, the screen then displayed “Kumlar I/O interface connected. Uplink online,” followed by varying camera feeds around the city’s interior.

Pedro felt a bit remorseful for missing out on this city, given all that orichalcum sand around the place. Then he found himself surprised by a glowing blue woman who claimed to be Esteban’s mother, Muran’Kel. She had supposedly been put in charge of maintaining all the Cities, and recorded everything that went on in each one, including the terrible events that brought those cities down. Aided by her masked liege, Dorad Elo, who apparently flew that Inca ship, the “Tumi”, she had been trying to help the crew reach Kumlar, and protect it from Ambrosius at all costs.

Pedro started to sweat when he saw Muran’Kel summoning another hologram, a man in orichalcum armor who talked like Cibola.

“That man is the Golden Condor?!” thought Pedro. “Why...how...how can someone like that be so...handsome?” He slapped himself over that last thought.

The second battle to thwart Ambrosius’ plans was equal parts awesome and confusing. One moment three huge gold automatons smashed his ship to pieces, the next Mendoza and Isabella kissed right in front of Ambrosius. Then he and the Doctor blasted their way into Rana’Ori’s tomb and got all the way to her casket, smacking Zia and Tao right off its dais, only making Pedro grit his teeth in anger.

Then it seemed like it was all over when the Doctor drew his gun on Ambrosius, leading him away from the coffin before the fat man could grab Rana’Ori’s Double Medallion inside.

“I don’t believe it, we won?!” Pedro gasped.

But then Pedro’s moment of joy sank when Ambrosius tried to shoot Muran’Kel in the head, compelling her to trap him in an hourglass. Pedro wanted to cheer her on for that, but watching him struggle seemed...wrong somehow. Even Cibola was freaked out.

And all the while, during the battle, Athanaos was being treated for his radiation sickness, requiring a blood and marrow donation from Esteban to do so.

It took a video playback of the first city and Athanaos to talk the woman down before Muran’Kel let Ambrosius go, but Cibola knew it was all still an anti-climax, so to get info out of him on where the next city was, Cibola and Ambrosius went at it one more time in a fist fight, man-to-man. Pedro had to admit it was satisfying to see the Condor beat the snot out of this fat man, and finally understood why he was so snarky. Getting to toy with the villain is something Pedro always wanted to do, but never had the courage to, beyond that one time in Japan. He burst out laughing watching the golden man trick Ambrosius into spilling the location of Egypt in exchange for a fake copy of the Double Medallion. The look of shock on Ambrosius’ face when he saw it crumble in his hand was priceless.

Then, the group said their goodbyes as the Doctor, Teteola, Ambrosius, and a few Order members took off in the Olmec ship, in hopes to restructure the Order of the Hourglass for better goals. Pedro raised an eyebrow as Dorad Elo cut a chunk of his hair off and shaped it into a wig for Athanaos.

The file approached its end as Kumlar sank back down the way it appeared, rather than crumbling to dust like he thought, and the group stopped at a giant golden turtle to receive the Solaris Mark II, apparently custom-built by Tao and Muran’Kel. The file ended as the Condor touched down on the ship’s landing pad at the bow.

“Wow...” Pedro sighed as he took in the room around him. “I guess we never should have left. Owning a tavern is nothing to this.” Then as he stood and looked at the door, Pedro asked himself, “Now what?”


	4. The Good Doctor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorad Elo and Celt Kardiae take a detour to visit the one who supplied Dorad's cybernetics.

Celt followed Dorad Elo and a pair of guards to another building in the orbiting golden city, this one a broad skyscraper with swirling spiral patterns around it, like a snake coiled around a needle. Celt had no clue where they were going, but figured Seer Lunicus’ suggestion for a medic sounded solid.

“Why are we going here again?” Celt asked. “I thought you were taking me to a workshop.”

“We need to be sure you won’t get a stroke during your job, not with that...that thing,” Dorad pointed to Celt’s head.

Dorad noticed his partner’s concern, and patted his shoulder as he explained, “Don’t worry, Celt. These people are the best in their field, one of them’s a friend of mine!”

“Worry?” Celt laughed, “I’m...I’m not worried!”

Dorad suddenly clutched his chest and coughed, “Besides, I need to get checked myself anyway, after our little run-in with the Spanish leader.”

“I won’t argue with that,” Celt laughed.

They entered an archway into a huge, brightly lit atrium that filled most of the tower’s base, a circle of elevators and overhead walkways linking each side and floor.

In the center of the chamber stood a wide, geometric sculpture atop a huge orichalcum fountain. At the very midpoint of each side stood a holographic terminal, and the guards allowed Dorad to approach one of them.

Celt watched as an electronic female voice spoke from the terminal, “Welcome. What services do you require today?”

And Dorad answered, “A Medic. And...Bio-surgery,” before waving one side of his gauntlet in front of a scanner set into the terminal.

The screen of light pulsed for a few seconds, checking its search criteria, then one entry appeared.

“Great, no other medics besides mine, can’t even spare a droid like Valoran,” he huffed. “What a day.”

Then Dorad turned around and spoke, “All right, Celt. Seems my doctor will be seeing you as well, since no one else is...available today.”

Celt just shrugged, “Better than nothing, I guess.”

Then Dorad asked the guards to leave while he led Celt to one of the elevators. They complied, understanding the personal matter. Once inside, Dorad selected the 17th floor, and Celt watched their ascension through the transparent wall.

“Who’s this doctor of yours, anyway?” Celt asked.

Dorad nervously gulped, then answered, “He’s...a bit unorthodox, but he trusts me. I think he’ll understand you as well.”

Then the rear door opened, letting them into a circular hallway running the tower’s inner perimeter. Following the kiosk’s directions, Dorad walked counterclockwise until he reached suite 17-E, then buzzed an intercom near the door.

A man’s voice answered “This is Neuro-Specialist Jai’Karsan, can I help you?”

“El Dorado has returned, and he’s brought a guest who needs help,” Dorad playfully answered.

He heard the man laugh, then he said, “Come right in, Golden One!”

Then Dorad heard the door unlock, hissing open automatically.

The two men stepped into a sterile, white room lined with equipment so advanced it made Celt feel queasy. In its center stood a tall, lean man dressed in a light blue uniform similar to Dorad’s, made distinct by a pair of shoulder lapels denoting some sort of medical status. His hair was dark brown, sticking out in all directions to the point that Esteban would have gelled his hair if he saw that.

As the man removed a strange set of dark goggles, he smiled, stepped forward and said, “Well, well! Dorad Elo, back for your checkup! And who’s this fellow you’ve brought?”

“C-Celt Kardiae, sir,” Celt admitted, still slightly embarrassed after his outburst with the Seers.

Dorad added, “He’s got a bit of...a brain injury, from a bullet graze. He’s stable, but I figured he should get looked at anyway if he wants to join the maintenance team.”

“I see,” the doctor smiled, folding his hands together. Then he stepped forward, clapped Celt on the shoulder with a gloved hand, and continued, “Well, you’ve come to the right man, Celt! I know everything there is to know about bio-mods, neurology, and the human body!” He chuckled as he added, “You can call me ‘Jack’, by the way. I find it more ‘human’ than Jai’Karsan.”

Celt blushed now, a bit nervous around this man.

Dorad looked at the two, then said, “Well if that’s true, Jack, can you give Celt a basic checkup alongside my implant diagnostics?”

“Basic?” Jack laughed, “This man looks like he came from Earth! Who knows what kind of micro-organisms he could be carrying?”

Celt just gulped, looking down at his shoes.

Then Jack glanced over at Dorad, “You’re lucky you brought him here, El Dorado, because should a Venus eclipse happen right now, he’d be dead.”

“Wait, what?” Celt gasped. “What are you--?”

But Jack was looking at Dorad, and he told him, “You can sit over there while I get the diagnostic rig going.”

And Dorad complied, sitting down in a large, padded chair surrounded by a ring of cables and mechanical orichalcum arms. Jack punched some commands into a nearby terminal, and the rig slowly powered up.

Before Celt could look, Jack walked back toward him and advised, “Now, you just step over there,” Jack pointed to a corner of the room where a scale, two racks of equipment, and another bed was, “and we can get started.”

Figuring that this man was more trustworthy than that old hack of a ‘Seer’, Celt complied and stood there.

“Okay,” Jack commanded while donning a surgical mask, “Before we start, I’m going to need you to remove all your clothes.”

“My clothes? Why?” Celt asked.

“Who knows what kind of illnesses got stuck to that?” Jack asked. “Don’t worry, I got a few robes in the back, and I’ll get someone to clean these for you.”

Celt just rolled his eyes and huffed, “Fine, if it’ll let me prove Mr. Holkin wrong,” before stripping off his jeans, jacket, cotton shirt, and briefs, making sure to empty his pockets before coming up with the crude goggles.

Jack looked at them, then Celt’s eyes, and asked, “Goggles? What do you use these for?”

“I...don’t remember,” Celt answered. “I’ve had them for as long I was down in that village.”

Then Dorad chuckled, “I saw him wearing them once or twice. They really bring out his smooth brown eyes.”

Celt just gulped as he handed his clothes to Jack, who snickered, “Mmm, and here I thought I’d given the Golden One jewels for his new eyes.”

Then Jack turned around, paged someone on an intercom to arrange something Celt couldn’t hear, and dumped Celt’s clothes down a laundry chute. Then, seconds later, an odd droid appeared with a folded set of blue garments in its claws. Celt raised no objections, but still found himself puzzled by the robe he now had to wear, even with underwear.

Then Jack turned about, smirked, and began measuring Celt’s weight, height, and blood pressure, though Celt shivered when Jack ran a thermometer under his arm.

“Whoa,” he gasped, “For a moment I thought you were going to stick that thing up my arse!”

Jack made a soft chuckle, then answered, “I thought of that at first, but…that’s not very appropriate for a patient such as you. We reserve that strictly for infants.”

Celt breathed a sigh of relief before Jack added, “Besides, THAT is something I’d rather let you discover for yourself.”

“What do you mean by that?” asked Celt.

Jack glanced at Dorad, who was already red in the face while more robot arms scanned the mask on his face.

Checking Celt’s vital signs on a strange clipboard, Jack remarked, “Mmm, you’re healthier than I thought. What did you do to get that much muscle?”

Dorad’s optics twitched, and Celt blushed again, before he answered, “I spent a lot of time climbing mountains and...flying. Flying aircraft.”

“Impressive,” then Jack got back on topic, “Now, let’s see what’s wrong with your head, shall we?”

Celt turned his head and pointed to the bandaged spot, where Jack carefully removed the crude bandage from his right temple.

“Oof, that does look serious,” Jack gasped, seeing a dark, bruised patch of skin with a thick scar. “You’d better lie down,” he added, pointing to the table.

\-----

As Jack tapped away at a console connected to an elaborate tubular machine around the bed’s headboard, Dorad remarked, “Jack, pardon me for asking, but where are all the other medics? I checked downstairs and only you came up.”

Jack glanced back and chuckled, “Oh, most of them are sleeping,” but a wink hinted something else by that statement, “the rest were called to the Enforcer facility until 1100 hours.”

Dorad rolled his optics and huffed, “I wonder who ordered that.”

Then Dorad sat back as a spindly golden arm inserted a cable into one of the data ports in the back of his head, bringing up a live feed of his point of view on one monitor.

Then, another arm brought down a light in front of his optics. All too familiar with this, Dorad shut his right eye, while the left followed the light as it circled around.

The process repeated with the other eye, then the screen began testing his vision settings, Infrared, Night Vision, Electro-Magnetic, Ultraviolet, and X-Ray.

Celt noticed this, and remarked, “Wow, for some reason I thought you saw everything in green.”

Dorad just laughed, “Do you see everything in white?”

“I...didn’t think of it that way,” Celt admitted.

Then the screen cycled to Infrared, and Dorad snarked, “I woke up with THAT setting on, you know.”

Celt glanced at Jack and asked, “How can he see all that?”

Jack giggled, “Why, I’m the one who supplied Dorad’s lovely implants, each crafted with love from the finest medichalcum I could find!”

“Finest what?” Celt asked.

“He gave me these implants for my missions, Celt,” Dorad explained.

But Jack changed the subject as he primed a white metal ring, “Now stay still, please, so I can find out what’s wrong with your head.”

Celt just sighed and did as he was told, watching the glowing torus pass back and forth over his body. Jack observed one of the screens and set the revolving hoop to run a deeper scan around Celt’s head.

Soon, Jack could see a 3D cross-section of the patient’s brain, cringing when he saw what had happened to it.

“My my...how long have you sustained this wound, Celt?” he asked.

“Four years, I think,” Celt answered. “Some...conquistador shot me with a Flintlock and then...I was in a coma for most of that while the Incas took care of me.”

“I see...” huffed Jack as he looked at the scan again. “Have you had any symptoms since then?”

“Just...shaky hands every now and then,” Celt admitted.

Dorad tried not to look down at his torso while the diagnostic sequence went on. He hoped the bandage on his chest was still intact.

Jack looked over the screen one more time, observing the cross-section of Celt’s skull and brain. The skull itself had been slightly punctured by the musket ball, while the brain itself had a very small dent in its tissue.

He looked at the tissue around the skull, then turned to Celt and explained, “You’re in luck: Whatever bullet you were shot with only dented your brain slightly. If it had penetrated just a little further, you’d be dead!”

While another scanning ring revolved around Dorad, he added, “That’s what I thought happened until I found him in Tumbes a while ago!”

Then Celt asked, “So what does that mean?”

“You narrowly survived a brain bleed, my friend,” Jack laughed. “You’ll have to take it easy for a while, but I think your brain can recover – though I’ll have to prescribe some medicine to help you.”

Celt’s heart sank when he saw Jack reaching for a large syringe.

“What are you...?” Celt gasped.

Jack glanced between the needle and his patient, then laughed, “Hahaha, I’m just messing with you!” before setting the needle back down and punching out more commands into the terminal. After a few minutes while medical data scrolled by on the monitors, a small vial of pills emerged from a slot under the console.

\-----

As he worked, Jack observed the various screens around Dorad. A computerized voice stated, “Warning: Moderate laceration and minor organ damage detected in sternum.”

Knowing what that meant, Jack asked, “Mmm, could you open your coat, El Dorado?”

And Dorad obliged, unbuttoning the green uniform beneath his robe.

Dorad blushed at this, for he could see the doctor was disturbed by the myriad of hiccys and bite marks from last night. Then, as Dorad allowed Jack to peel back the huge micropore bandage, his disturbance rose further when he saw a brownish gash down his chest.

“What the farse were you doing down on Earth?” Jack drawled.

Dorad coughed, “I...had a little run-in with my old nemesis, Governor Pizarro. He...stabbed me when I saved Celt.”

“Why didn’t you come to see me right away?!” Jack asked.

“I...needed to rest, and the Seers wanted me this morning,” answered Dorad.

Jack sighed, “Those people shove you around like you’re their droid. If they wanted you to take a long walk off a short stabilizer, would you do it?”

Dorad sweated for a moment, then cleared his throat as he replied, “They wouldn’t do that! Seer Lunicus wouldn’t allow it, at least she cares about our well-being!”

“I saw your video log just now,” Jack gestured to the monitors, “They literally summoned you to scold you before sending you to med! Such priorities, that’s all they ever do! Scold anyone who makes the slightest mistake!”

Celt laughed, “I can confirm, I was there!”

Then as Jack stepped up and walked toward the robot rig’s console, he glanced at Celt, smiling, “About time somebody stood up to Lord Clockwork!”

“I’d never seen anyone do that to him before,” Dorad tried not to laugh.

“Anyway, we’d better get that gash sealed before it opens up,” Jack finished as he switched the terminal’s program.

“I agree,” coughed Dorad. “I...didn’t sleep very well last night.”

“Yeah, you were tossing and turning all night!” added Celt. “No wonder I woke up on the floor!”

Jack tapped out more commands into the console, first calling up a schematic of one of Dorad’s implants, then feeding a sequence to the robot arms. One of them filled a syringe with local anesthetic and proceeded to inject it in several points around the wound, before another arm came up with a sewing needle designed for surgical stitches. The sensation of its weaving was strange, but thankfully not painful.

As the stitching and scan processes went on, however, Jack looked up at the screens and exclaimed, “Cosmos above! Dorad, don’t you ever wipe your neuro-visual implant after a mission? It’s almost full!”

Dorad noticed a schematic of his brain on one of the monitors and gulped when he saw a familiar dark gadget attached to it, “Oops, I didn’t know it was running that long.”

“Running for five months, it looks like!” Jack sighed,

“Ooh!” Celt yipped as he sat up on the bed. “Can I see some of that? I’d like to know how your missions went!”

“I’m...not sure I can do that, Celt. Most of this data is for Seers’ eyes only.” Then he noticed Celt’s dampened expression and he added, “I’ll...look over it when I get time and there might be some footage that’s safe to watch.

By then, the stitch was complete, Dorad surprised to see a small logo of the medical group embroidered into its bottom end.

“Jack...why did you?” Dorad grumbled.

“I had to do it,” Jack snickered as he stood up, “Skin, cloth, who says both don’t have room for a little flair? And don’t worry, it’ll dissolve within a week.”

“Right,” Dorad huffed as he finally stood up. “Is that all?”

Jack helped Celt off the bed, handing him the pill bottle and explained, “Yes. Celt, if you’re going to join the maintenance team, you’re going to have to take it easy. Just take one of those pills every day, try not to do anything strenuous, and I believe your brain should be as good as new within one to two months!”

“Two months?!” Celt gasped. “Aww, I wanted to be a pilot like Dorad!”

“You will,” Dorad smiled. “It’ll just take time. I know you’ll make it up the ladder – and with your knack for flight, I think you might even get to stick it to Holkin one day!”

That brought a smile to Celt’s face as he downed one of the pills.

Then, Dorad asked, still in the chair, “Uh, Jack, why don’t you dump my footage now and send it over to my apartment terminal? Coded transmission, if possible.”

“That I can do,” Jack agreed, though he had to ask Dorad for his passcodes.

With everything sorted, the two men then stepped out of the clinic, and Jack waved them off, “Enjoy your stay on board the Colombea, Celt! If you or your Inca space-lord ever need medical attention, you know where to find me!”

“Thank you, Jack. Have a nice day!” Dorad replied before stepping out the door.

\-----

Finally, the duo walked toward a series of large, bulky buildings close to the bridge of the ship, and entered one marked with the Muan number 3. Inside was a hangar with a variety of orichalcum vehicles in various stages of repair.

Celt was already awestruck at what was here, and couldn’t wait to operate on one of them. But Dorad was leading him to an office set to one side, and the two men came face to face with a tall, muscular woman in a red uniform marked with ornamental gears on each shoulder. Her hair was brown and tied up in a bun.

“Yes? May I help you?” She asked.

Celt stammered, “I...I’m here to meet the head engineer. Have you seen him?”

The woman looked Celt up and down, then smiled, “Why sure, sure. He’ll...be here in a moment. My name is Carvana – that’s Car-vah-nah, just so you don’t get it wrong.”

Celt gulped, “I’ll try to remember that, miss.”

Dorad clarified as he flashed his gauntlet, “My partner Celt Kardiae is here for the Level 1 Maintenance team. Uh, Seer Lunicus said you had a position available?”

Carvana checked a terminal below the window shelf, then answered, “Well, that will depend if this ‘Celt’ can pass the test or not.”

“Test? What test?” Celt asked.

Carvana gave Celt another long glance, then remarked, “My, you’re really out of place, aren’t you? You must be really desperate to want to join our team!”

As Celt lowered his head in a mixture of embarrassment and frustration, Carvana paged someone on an intercom, “Engineer Ilsa to head office, please.”

Within minutes, a woman in a red jumpsuit approached, her hair long and black. Carvana introduced the two men, and added, “Show Celt to the orientation room, if you would.”

“Of course, mistress,” Ilsa answered.

Suddenly, Dorad’s gauntlet beeped twice. When he looked at its thin screen set above the controls, a text message appeared, reading: “MISSION UPDATE: Report immediately to Trail Site EPSILON 01-C. Scan for faults and record any new data. Evacuate prior to Chosen Ones’ arrival. Your ship’s supplies have been replenished for this journey.”

He looked up, and Celt stared straight back.

“What is it?” Celt asked.

“It looks like my superiors need me Earthside again,” sighed Dorad. “I’m afraid I can’t stay here to see you off.”

“What?!” gasped Celt.

“Don’t worry,” Dorad insisted as he hugged his friend. “These people are professionals; they’ve helped fix the Tumi a few times. I’m sure your flying skills will fit in alongside them one day!”

Celt noticed Carvana giving him an odd smile, but she said nothing. Then as Dorad let go, Celt swallowed his sadness and answered, “All right, take care of yourself, golden boy. Tell your ship I said ‘Hi’.”

“I will,” Dorad nodded. Then just as he backed away, reaching for the exit door, he added, “Until the Great Reunion.” And with that, Dorad left.

Trying to hide his sadness, Celt then followed Ilsa down a corridor, soon finding himself in a small room. In it was a large chair with a strange headrest, and a pedestal holding a keyboard and a long, angular screen behind it. Celt almost thought the screen was a mirror by its reflective surface.

“What’s that?” Celt asked.

“It’s a simple terminal, sir,” Ilsa explained as she pointed, “Just follow the orientation on it, and we can get started.”

Shrugging, Celt walked forward, sat down in a chair before the terminal, and began following the instructions on-screen, feeling rather irritated by being forced to work with a piece of tech he’d never used before.


	5. Leisure Cruise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our heroes plan their next mission as they explore the Solaris Mark II, while a clue to their destination waits inside one of its rooms.

Back on the Solaris Mark II...

At this point, the group had gathered around the central table once more, and this time Mendoza had a pair of maps out.

“All right,” he began, pointing to the map, “As you’ve probably guessed, we have traveled all around the world except for these two continents,” he pointed as he explained, “Africa and North America. There are some smaller locations, but I doubt we have the time or resources to explore them all.”

“Those first two continents sound really interesting,” Esteban remarked. “Do you know anything about them?”

Mendoza made his usual knowing chuckle, “I do remember a fair bit about Africa: I passed through it when I was younger while in transit to Spain.” He leaned forward and grinned, “With all the merchant cities there, it might make Hormuz look like a single shop!”

The children’s eyes went wide with anticipation, and even Sancho and Pedro were intrigued.

“What about the other place?” asked Zia. “Um...” she glanced at the map again, “‘North America’?”

But Mendoza sat back and sighed, “I’m afraid I don’t know what’s over there, Zia. The...Spanish kept me too busy with South America and the rest.”

“Judging by these maps,” Esteban pointed at one, “We could have gone north of the First City of Gold and explored it much sooner!”

But Athanaos put a hand on his son’s shoulder and softly explained, “So many ‘maybes’ and ‘woulds’. Let’s think of the present instead, my son.”

Then Mendoza just shrugged, “We’re in a prime position to choose our destination at this point.

“But where are we going first?” asked Esteban.

“Good question,” Isabella huffed. “I’d rather not be crammed inside the Condor with this many people at once,” she gestured to the group.”

“Nor would I!” Pedro yipped.

Then Tao reached a brilliant decision, “Wait! What if we form two teams, one on the Condor and one on this ship? We could find the next two cities at the same time!”

“That sounds perfect!” cheered Zia.

“But who will be on which team?” asked Esteban.

Then Mendoza reached into the vest under his cloak and fished out a pair of small ivory cubes, and explained, “Well, it so happens I have a pair of dice right here!”

“Dice?” chuckled Isabella, “I didn’t think you gambled, Mendoza!”

“I don’t, much,” admitted Mendoza, “But I kept these after gambling a little for gold coins in Spain. I watched two funny men – Tulio and Miguel they were called, more people looking for the so-called city of El Dorado,”

The kids laughed as well at that part.

“I found they were using weighted dice,” Mendoza went on, “But I didn’t tell anyone.”

Tao chortled, “Too bad the city they were after is actually a man!"

“Anyway,” Mendoza changed the subject as he looked over the dice. “Let’s try this: Whoever gets an odd-numbered roll on these dice visits Africa, while an even roll goes to North America.”

Tao looked over at one of the control panels in the room and asked the ship, “Heva, could you tally our dice rolls for us?”

“Affirmative,” the helper pinged back over the speakers. “Please speak your results clearly.”

“Can do!” Tao replied, the others nodding with slight shyness.

“Are we ready?” asked Mendoza.

“Ready!” the whole group collectively answered.

Mendoza made his first roll and stated, “Seven!”

“Lucky,” Huffed Isabella, before Mendoza passed her the dice.

She rolled next: “Eleven.”

Then Athanaos took his turn, coming up at Eight.

Pedro and Sancho received rolls of Three and Nine.

As Zia waited for her turn, nobody noticed her eyes carefully following the dice as she watched the way they fell, nor the mischievous smirk on her face.

Tao was next for the dice, and after shaking them in both hands for several seconds, he came up with a roll of Five, much to his surprise.

“Five?” he gasped, “Why would--?”

“Just pass me the dice, Tao,” huffed Esteban.

And Tao handed them over, then Esteban made his roll. He raised an eyebrow when the dice landed on Twelve.

“You got a higher amount than me!” whined Pedro.

“Shush,” pushed Mendoza.

Finally, Zia picked up the dice from Esteban, and made her last roll: Six.

Then Tao glanced at the panel again, and asked for the score.

Heva announced, “Displaying scores from lowest to highest,” And two columns began to fill with names, “Odd scores: Sancho, Tao, Mendoza, Pedro, and...Isabella. Even values: Zia, Athanaos, and...Esteban.”

“What?!” Pedro yelped first. “I want a re-roll!”

“I think it’s a good score to me,” snickered Zia.

Isabella twitched slightly from being grouped in with Mendoza, and scoffed, “That...that could have just been random chance!”

Esteban looked at the scores on the screen, then to the others, and noticed Tao staring at him, dumbfounded.

“Well? What do you think, Esteban?” he asked.

Esteban finally huffed, “Do we really have to split up?”

Mendoza offered, “It makes the most sense to me. We could save a great deal of travel time covering both lands this way.”

Athanaos added, “I agree, and I would be more than willing to look after my son and Zia in the meantime.”

Esteban blushed as his father patted his shoulder. Then he asked, “Okay, but I have a question: When are we leaving?”

“Hmm,” Mendoza held his chin, “I was considering by first dawn.”

Then Tao remembered something, and he went on, “That should give me enough time to look around this ship. Uh...” he hesitated.

“Yes, Tao?” asked Mendoza.

“I could be mistaken, but...” Tao nervously glanced at Esteban, then continued, “I found a note from Esteban’s mother in my room. She said that there was a study in my old ship that I never found. Something tells me that study might be in this one as well.”

“Interesting,” quipped Mendoza. “I thought you designed this ship?”

“I did, mostly,” Tao answered. “But not these extra...additions.”

Esteban tilted his gaze, and Zia giggled, “I wouldn’t be surprised, nothing like this was in the first Solaris!” she gestured to the kitchen around them.

Pedro bolted from his chair in surprise, and remarked, “If that’s the case, I can’t wait to see the rest of this ship!”

Sancho almost suggested some treasure thrown in, but the words wouldn’t come out of his mouth.

“Well, why not?” shrugged Mendoza as he shook dust out of his cape, “We have plenty of time.”

Esteban took charge, “If we’re to be grouped like this for our mission, I’ll go with my father and Zia through there, and you can take the other side,”

“Sounds fair,” nodded Mendoza.

Isabella failed to notice she was gently clutching Mendoza’s left wrist.

\-----

Unlike the Solaris Mark I, the port and starboard hallways were open to the sea by enormous windows running from aft to fore. Opposite these windows were a number of doors to other rooms within the ship.

On the port side, Mendoza first noticed a heavy-looking metal door with a tinted window looking into a familiar red chamber. Each wall, separated at the corners by ornate columns, was filled with glowing crystalline blocks, like the Pyramid of Mu. Below the window was a cube icon with arrows splitting it along the XYZ axes.

Isabella wasn’t looking, only staring out the windows to the ocean, lost in reflection on how far she’d come on her trail of death and destruction under the Order of the Hourglass and her parents. With her cruel mother dead, her father redeemed, and Ambrosius defeated at last, this new ship felt like a completely new chapter in the woman’s life, one where nobody could tell her what to do. With all the Solaris’ advanced technology at the team’s disposal, Isabella felt like she’d scored a ride to paradise. But what were they heading for, and what would their next adventure entail?

She just sighed and left that thought by the wayside as she watched the waves roll along the endless sea.

Mendoza noticed Tao nearby, and asked, “Excuse me Tao, do you know what this room is for? I saw it on the...other version of this ship.”

Tao could barely see the window from his height, so he tapped a switch, and the door rose up, swathing the two in the chamber’s reddish glow.

Tao squinted as he looked at the red chamber of blocks, and commented, “I’m not entirely sure myself, Mendoza. At first, I thought it had something to do with the ship’s solar system, but now I wonder if it might be related to Heva, like that little orichalcum box that Cibola lives in.”

The two people trudged into the chamber, and Mendoza touched the far wall, feeling the crystal blocks. He tried pulling one of them out, but like before, it wouldn’t budge.

Tao noticed a terminal next to the door listing off some kind of diagnostics on-screen, but the Mu code scrolled too fast for him to read it. He didn’t bother touching the keyboard, for he knew better by now than to mess with something he didn’t understand.

Finding nothing of use, Mendoza and Tao simply left the chamber, continuing on as the door whirred shut.

Then Isabella re-joined the group as they moved to the next door, which opened into a wide, green, ornately decorated lounge. In it stood a couch, chairs, a few game tables, a large orichalcum music player near the back wall, and a minibar in one corner.

Mendoza just laughed, “I should have expected this!” As he saw Pedro hastily searching the minibar for alcohol, while Sancho scrolled through the music player’s selections.

Picking one at random, a jovial tune suddenly blared from the unit’s speakers, all horns, strings, and drums like a parade band. Isabella noticed this as she entered the room, perplexed at this unfathomable level of luxury. She rolled her eyes as Pedro gave up searching the bar and awkwardly tried to dance to the music alongside Sancho.

“Some ship this is,” snarked Isabella, “Who sails in a floating mansion?”

“The people of Mu, I’d think!” Tao bragged yet again. “Looks just right for a Naca--” but he caught himself, and coughed, “Uh, just right for us, after all we’ve been through!”

Pedro looked at Sancho, then Tao, glossing over a pre-set chessboard at one of the tables, then he shrugged, “You know, Tao? For once, I think you’re right! All that time we’ve been hopping from country to country without a real place to sleep? This is perfect!”

“I agree, Pedro, but we should keep searching before we truly settle in,” Mendoza advised as he walked toward the door.

Sancho begrudgingly turned off the sound system as he and Pedro followed out.

Ignoring a third room that seemed to be either a laboratory or engineering station, Mendoza came to a fork in the hallway. He ordered Pedro and Sancho to check the bow up ahead, while Mendoza and Isabella took the branching path.

As the group walked on, Tao wondered what Esteban’s team was finding on the starboard side.

\-----

Over there, Esteban, Zia and Athanaos discovered a medical bay, a large chamber in the middle that held some sort of pool or hot tub, and a third room bearing exercise equipment and a laundry system.

“What is all that in those rooms?” Esteban asked, knowing neither of the others would have a straight answer. “What would a...a big pool of water be used for on this ship? Some glorified bathtub, like in China?”

“Ask Tao, I’m sure he’d know!” Zia smirked.

“Looks to me that this third room would be useful for getting me back up to speed,” Athanaos smiled as he stretched his arms, “Now that my sickness is gone!”

“Maybe?” Esteban shrugged.

Athanaos was about to make a compliment, but cleared his throat and instead asked, “Uh...Hello? Heva?”

“Yes, Athanaos?” the ship asked.

“Could you tell us what the items in,” he stopped to notice the numbered sign over the door, “Room...five are used for?”

“Cannot provide direct answer,” Heva responded. “But I have transmitted proper documentation to your cabin terminals.”

Esteban rolled his eyes, then his father answered, “Thanks.”

“You are welcome, Athanaos,” the helper flatly finished.

Soon, the two groups converged at the curving path that linked with the port side, and Mendoza stepped out to greet the others.

“Ah! There you are!” He exclaimed. “Find anything interesting on that side?”

Esteban was at a loss for words, so Athanaos answered, “It...I’m not sure how to describe it, but it looks useful.”

Isabella just huffed, “Wish I understood what these rooms are for. But...at least it’s better than being stuck in a crummy galleon.”

Zia playfully shrugged, “Looks to me like either Tao or Esteban’s mother wanted to make sure we have plenty of ways to relax here!”

“It looks like that,” Esteban shrugged.

Then Tao beckoned from around the corner, “Esteban, come look at this! I think I found the locked door!”

The three people stepped past Mendoza, into an arched blue sub-corridor between both sides, lit by the hull windows and a domed overhead light. Towards the bow was a second elevator, marked “Fore Lift”, while Tao stood in front of a featureless door set into the aft wall.

Esteban furrowed his brow as he rapped his knuckles against the door out of curiosity, but nothing happened. He squinted at the door handle, and quickly noticed a cross-shaped keyhole just above it.

“Well, whatever this door leads to,” Esteban stated, “It looks like we’ll have to find a key to get in.”

“Why do I feel like Muran’Kel intentionally hid the key on this ship for us to find?” Tao almost laughed.

Zia joined in, “It feels like one of those riddles we’ve solved, like she’s preparing us for the next city somehow!”

Athanaos looked at her, then nodded, “Yes, it sounds like something she would have done. A test.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” smiled Mendoza, “But if that’s the case, we’ll have to keep looking. I never saw a key in any of the other rooms. At least on the port side.”

“Assuming it didn’t fly off into the ocean,” snarked Esteban.

\-----

At this point, Mendoza noticed his eyes had been idly gazing at Isabella’s chest. She caught him noticing her shirt when she tightened it, and Mendoza rhetorically asked while clearing his throat, “Excuse me, miss. If you wanted to a hide a key someplace, where would you stick it?” He gasped when the wrong word slipped. "I…I mean hide it."

Isabella rolled her eyes and answered, “In my pocket. Where else would you want me to put it?”

Mendoza looked away, feeling himself growing redder by the second. "Well, I thought that…a lady like you has got a lot of hiding places." He tried to flash a cocky grin, looking her up and down like he was checking her out. "And we did say we'd have to check every place on this ship…"

“What the…?” gagged Esteban.

Mendoza felt the barrel of Isabella’s unloaded pistol at his chest as she warned, "If I didn't know you better, I'd think you're trying to flirt. Here's a piece of advice: keep your attempts and your hands to yourself, and I won't have to show you just how far my gun can go up _your_ hiding places."

The gun barrel pressing into his abdomen brought the message across, and he stammered, “Al…Alright, I’m sorry! I thought you'd like this kind of talk.”

"And I thought you were better than this. You've already got my favors, don't waste them so stupidly."

"Alright, alright. Hide your keys wherever you please, that's your business."

“Glad that I didn't even need a loaded gun to make myself understood.” smirked Isabella as she holstered the weapon. “Besides, I was thinking about that door myself.”

“Yes?” Tao finally asked.

Isabella pulled a pair of thin metal tools from her belt and snarked, “I’ve picked a few locks in my time, this one shouldn’t be too hard!”

And she inserted the two picks into the lock and tried to work the fine mechanisms inside. But as she moved the picks around the cross-shaped cavity, Isabella soon realized it was futile to try. Despite the myriad of locks she’d grown adept at picking under the Order of the Hourglass and her family, this one was too advanced for her simple picks, no matter how hard she forced in the two tools. 

Dumbfounded, she stepped back, pulled the picks from the lock, and sighed, “Well, so much for that.”

“Let’s keep moving,” commanded Mendoza. “We haven’t seen the whole ship yet. Pedro and Sancho already got a head start up that way,” and he pointed to the bow.

The group walked on, traveling the short remainder of the two hallways.

\-----

Up ahead, the curving blue walls converged at a single point at the bow, a long, high, French-style door that opened into the Solaris’ prow, the orichalcum head that represented Heva. Its sub-hallway branched into two high rooms, one for each eye, and the crowd found Pedro and Sancho seated in front of the huge portholes that were the head’s eyes.

Sancho was playing with a strange orichalcum panel set into his couch, and as he showed it to Mendoza, Sancho punched some of the buttons, and in seconds, he called up a holographic vista of grassy hills and trees against a blue sky, a recording of birdsong and wind playing alongside it.

“This ship just keeps getting stranger and stranger,” muttered Isabella.

“Stranger than the one I knew!” Tao nodded. “Wonder if my Father was involved with designing this one after the first?”

Mendoza had to persuade Sancho to turn off the projector, just as he was enjoying the view a peaceful beach. It took a few more toggles between images before he found the red power stud at the top.

Then the men began frantically searching the chamber for any signs of a key, but even searching the cushions of the couch turned up nothing.

Meanwhile, Esteban was busy trying to shake Pedro out of his own simulation of being up in the clouds. But as soon as he came out of it, searching his chamber for keys was equally fruitless.

Tao suspected there was only one other place they hadn’t been: The hold. He beckoned the crew along to the Fore lift, and brought them to Deck 3, the bottommost area of the ship.

The group passed through another short blue hallway, which, apart from a few monitors on the left wall, abruptly ended at a pair of broad orichalcum double doors.

Tao looked at the screens, sighting one that read: “POWER: Standard propulsion mode. 67.4 percent efficiency.”

The boy’s eyes perked when he saw a second line, “ALERT: Solar systems offline. Manual activation needed.”

“Solar systems offline,” Tao repeated out loud. “I think I know what that means.”

And as he pushed a switch to open the gold doors, the crew immediately realized Tao’s intentions.

Unlike the chamber Mendoza remembered from the Solaris Mark I, the massive hold of this ship was packed with all manner of crates, large and small, no doubt the ones he’d seen being loaded into this ship during its construction. An arm or crane dangled from the ceiling on a series of rails, along with an illuminated panel in the center of the floor, which seemed to align with an opening somewhere far above.

“Huh, I suppose that explains those boxes I found in the kitchen last night,” Mendoza remarked.

But Tao’s eyes were drawn to the familiar orichalcum cube toward the stern. Even amid the dozens of boxes, it still stood out upon its huge dais. Nonetheless intrigued, he raced toward the cube, and found the distinct red sun switch overhead.

Like before, the cube bisected as he pulled it, revealing a second sun icon inside. This time, however, a buzzer sounded three times, then Heva barked over the speakers, his voice resonating around the hold, “You are attempting to activate the solar array. Captain Tao, I must verify your palm to continue.”

And the inner sun icon glowed with a dark handprint in its center.

“Why?” Tao asked. “I didn’t have to do that on the old version!”

The crew heard a strange electronic sound over the intercom, then Heva answered, “It is for your safety, as well as that of your friends. I am...the Solaris, and this part of me is sensitive – I am lu-lu-lucky that this orichalcum shell was im-im-immune to...ax blows. I must ensure that no harm will come to this solar array a second time.”

Sancho flinched from that, and Mendoza felt a strange mix of guilt and confusion.

Tao sighed, “Fine, whatever you say, Heva,” and leaned into the cube, pressing his left hand against the panel.

As Heva processed his captain’s handprint, he spoke, “Identification verified. Thank you, Tao. Solar array power-up is in progress, but be advised: Estimated time to sunset is 1920 hours.”

“What?” Esteban asked, puzzled by the term.

“Mid-evening,” clarified Heva.

Meanwhile, the rest of the crew watched as a complex series of hatches and lenses drew in the sunlight through a shaft leading to the surface, right into the cube as the ship’s systems powered up.

“Why didn’t I think of this sooner?” Tao muttered to himself. Then he asked, loud and clear, “Heva, have you seen a key for my father’s study anywhere?”

“Negative, my captain. Such data was not registered during or after my construction. Recommend manual inspection.”

“But we’ve been all over this ship!” complained Esteban. “From the cabins to the bow, and now here! Where else could it be?”

“I sincerely apologize, but I lack sufficient data to answer your question,” Heva admitted.

Then Zia looked Esteban and smirked, “I bet you Muran’Kel hid it somewhere. Somewhere she’d expect us to find it.”

“Or the last place we’d think to look, maybe,” Athanaos added.

Mendoza and Isabella at each other, then Isabella muttered, “You look in your cabin, and I’ll look through mine, not the other way around. Got that?”

Mendoza tried not to laugh, “I wasn’t planning on it, Isabella.”

While the crew stepped back toward the forward elevator, the ship thudded slightly as the mast and cloth sail switched itself for the metallic solar sail, the late afternoon sunlight quickly fueling the ship’s main generators.

\-----

It took several minutes to retrace their way back to the crew deck, but when Tao reached his cabin, he locked himself in and frantically began searching all around the room, flipping through his Mu textbooks, searching the drawers of his desk and nightstand, looking under the bed, and rifling through his wardrobe of new, if duplicate yellow tunics.

Then, as he lifted one of the pillows on his bed, he heard a soft thud as something else landed on the floor. When he saw nothing under the pillow, Tao reached down and picked up what turned out to be his plush doll of helper Mirada.

“Oh, I forgot about you!” he remarked.

He stared at her cutesy smiling face of cloth, squeezing her stuffed body. Suddenly, Tao felt something hard inside the plush, and as he turned the doll around, he felt, amid the folds of her faux dress, a small slit under its tassels. He reached two fingers inside, grabbed the hard object, and withdrew an ornate, cross-shaped orichalcum key.

Turning the doll back around, Tao jokingly told it, “Well, thanks for holding on to that for me, Mirada!”

Then he carefully set the doll back onto the bed, and slipped out of his cabin. He knocked on Mendoza’s door and cheered, waving the key, “Mendoza, I found it! I found the key!”

He opened it, noticed the item, and answered, “Well, good job, Tao! I couldn’t find it in my cabin.” He cleared his throat, “Do you want me to go with you? To see what’s inside?”

Tao thought it over, then, after all they’d been through, he answered, “Sure, but just you. I...don’t want to bother the others.”

“I understand,” nodded Mendoza.

\-----

Back by the sealed door, Tao shoved the key into the cross-shaped lock. It fit perfectly, and with a single click, the lock opened.

Tao pulled the handle, and the door opened slowly on silent hinges, revealing a semicircular room. Its dark red back wall was almost completely dominated by a vast bookshelf. An ornate desk and high-backed chair stood in the center, papers all over its surface. An assortment of orichalcum odds and ends were stacked at the left and right walls, some sort of potted tree adorned one corner of the right wall next to a painting of Zel’s face, dark brown with a thick black beard, and a wide draftsman’s table at the left wall completed the image, a schematic of a Mu object on top.

Tao and Mendoza moved into the office, examining everything in sight.

“So, this was where your father worked?” Mendoza asked, eyeing Zel’s picture.

“That’s what Muran’Kel said,” Tao affirmed. “Let’s look around.”

Tao started at the drafting table, noticing quickly that the topmost sheet of graph paper held some schematics of the jar that stabilized the Great Legacy reactor. The sheets below that detailed what looked like some of the treehouses he used to live in on the Galapagos, the wooden cable car, and other things Tao couldn’t identify.

Mendoza scanned over the variety of books on the shelf, but couldn’t make sense of the Mu glyphs on their spines. Pulling one out at random, its pages did little more than remind Mendoza of Tao’s Mu Encyclopedia.

As he put it back, he asked Tao, “What did you find? I can’t make much sense of these books.”

“Not much,” Tao replied, “But it looks like my father really did build the treehouses on my island. And...maybe that jar as well!”

“Interesting,” Mendoza remarked as he stood aside for Tao.

The boy sat himself into the chair behind the desk, wondering what his father would have done here in the first Solaris. Checking each drawer and cabinet mostly turned up a variety of papers, tools, writing implements, and some mechanical devices he couldn’t identify.

On the desk itself, Tao leaned forward as he saw an intricately decorated map, with what looked like a red circle drawn around a point near the Nile delta.

Under this, Tao found a handwritten letter, and pulled it out.

It read, “My son, if you are reading this, it means you have reached the next step of your journey. There is much you have yet to know about me or the secrets of Mu, so I have prepared the means for you to discover this knowledge. Set the Solaris to Latitude 31.5 degrees North, Longitude 30.3 degrees East, and follow the Nile to Cairo. Good luck. -Zel.”

Tao looked at the map and saw that the red circle was in the same general area as those coordinates.

“Mendoza...” Tao gaped with awe, “I think we have our next part of the trail.”

“We do?” Mendoza asked, examining the map, “Huh, that’s relatively close to the delta of the Nile river.”

“It’s coordinates thirty-one degrees North, thirty degrees East,” Tao repeated. “I wonder if father thought I would have gone there first, instead of Lima? This doesn’t sound recent.”

“Well, at least it’s a viable clue,” shrugged Mendoza.

“You’re right,” Tao nodded as he set down the letter.

\-----

Tao opted to use the fore lift as a shortcut to the bridge, passing the glaring solar sail on the way across the top deck.

Once up on the bridge, Heva spoke, “Welcome, Captain. What course do you wish to set?”

“Thirty-one degrees north, thirty degrees east,” Tao reported again.

“We are currently traveling slowly south-southwest,” Heva reported, “Rotate one-hundred-eighty-two degrees counterclockwise to reach coordinate vector.”

“Can do,” Tao smiled as he rotated the wheel, Mendoza watching with interest as one of the displays tracked the ship’s rotation.

“There, looks good to me,” Tao remarked once he hit the degree specified.

“Thank you, calculating course now,” Heva reported as some of the screens flashed with mathematical signs and graphs, then he continued, “Course set. Engaging secondary propulsion.”

And as a top-down diagram showed on one screen, the over-one-hundred oars deployed from deck three and began propelling the Solaris Mark II through the sea as it turned around.

“We’re going to have to tell the others,” warned Mendoza.

“Yes, I know,” Tao nodded as the two of them headed for the aft elevator.

\-----

“So, you’re really going to Egypt?” asked Esteban, once Tao explained everything to the crew in the lounge.

“Not sure how long it’ll take to get there, but yes,” Tao specified. “I found another letter from my father in his office, telling me to follow the Nile to Cairo.”

Then Esteban glanced at his father and asked, “As for us, I guess we’ll retrace to where the first City of Gold was and go north?”

“Why not?” Athanaos humored him. “We all have to start somewhere. Heh, maybe I’ll recognize some parts I visited before?”

“Maybe,” Mendoza shrugged.

Pedro and Sancho were busy playing chess with each other and failing.

Then Tao remembered another factor, and asked out of the blue, “I wonder if Muran’Kel left any Atlantean texts in your cabin, like she did with the Mu textbooks in mine?”

“I hadn’t looked,” Esteban shrugged.

“That might be useful before we leave,” Athanaos reminded his son.

“Maybe,” shrugged Esteban. “This is all happening a bit too fast for me.”

“Heva said the sun will set in a few hours, so I don’t blame you,” Tao remarked.

And Esteban stood, looking for something to do in this luxurious space.

\-----

The evening came without incident as the Solaris passed through the Straits of Gibraltar. Athanaos decided to try some exercise routines Heva sent to his terminal, with mixed success. Isabella tried not to think of her dead mother as she relaxed in the wading pool. Tao found a few data disks in his cabin, one of which contained a tutor program meant to test his Mu spelling skills. Esteban couldn’t stop thinking about his mother as he searched the cabin more thoroughly, discovering a variety of toys and trinkets that looked like something he would have had in childhood, showing particular embarrasment by some kind of fancy doll.

“If you built my room like this because I missed out on being in your family, mother, you did a pretty poor job of it,” he huffed, wondering if she or Heva was listening.

When the time came, Pedro, Sancho, and much of the crew had trouble understanding how to use the sink, toilet, or shower units in their cabins’ on-suite bathrooms. Heva had to print up more instructions on the subject, hastily apologizing for this error.

Then, after another richly cooked meal, the crew turned in for the night as the ship switched over to the cloth sail, the oars withdrawing as the Solaris cruised through the Mediterranean sea.

Esteban knew he, Zia and Athanaos would have to leave on the Golden Condor soon if they wanted to make up the time to hit America, but this huge shift in their adventure was a lot to take in, and the boy felt he still needed one more night of rest.

Tomorrow, they’d make the great divide.


	6. There and Back Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Celt and Dorad Elo part ways as both begin their individual missions.

Celt stared through a window facing the dome as the Tumi zoomed off into space, vanishing in a ball of golden light. He only had time to sigh before Head Engineer Carvana approached him.

“Congratulations, Celt Kardiae,” she smiled, holding out a set of folded red garments like her own, “Welcome to our Engineering team. Your...test score wasn’t bad, but I see we’ll have to move slowly.”

“What do you mean? I thought I scored highly!” Celt protested.

“Your score was Intelligence Quotient eighty-two – Low Average,” Carvana specified. “You have engineering potential, but like I said, we will have to move slowly if you want to work your way up.”

“Fine,” Celt grumbled as he took the clothes, puzzled at their design. He shrugged, hoping they were at least better than the lousy robe he was wearing.

Carvana then offered, “I’ll show you to the dressing room where you can get dressed for this job.”

Celt blushed at what that might entail, but thanked Carvana when she let him dress in privacy as he claimed locker 427. Once he was in uniform – finding the shirt portion rather tight, Carvana handed him an orichalcum gauntlet.

“What’s this?” Celt asked as he turned it in his hands.

And Carvana cordially explained, “That is your standard-issue communication gauntlet. Please don’t lose it during your shift.”

Trying not to giggle, Celt carefully slipped it onto his left forearm, realizing its similarity with his partner’s golden gauntlet.

Then he asked, “So...what do I do with it, ma’am?”

Carvana held up one finger as she sternly continued, “You will receive your daily assignments through this device.” She tapped something on what looked like her own gauntlet, then continued, “Watch the display here.” she pointed to a rectangular panel that took up most of Celt’s gauntlet.

And Celt stared as the device beeped twice, and the screen lit up, displaying a message that read, “Welcome to the Colombea Engineering team, Celt Kardiae. Per Seer request, your first assignment today is to SWEEP and MOP FLOOR of WORKSHOP 03. Please report to your nearest superior when you are finished.”

Then, after showing Celt how to replay previous messages and giving him a rundown on the team’s rules, Carvana then directed Celt to join the other engineers within the workshop, where a dark-haired, red-suited man – who called himself Supervisor Jarrin, cheerfully showed Celt where to start sweeping, and where the cleaning implements were.

But as soon as Celt took hold of the push broom and started sweeping, frustration sank down upon him. Just one day ago, he and Dorad saved an Inca village like heroes, and now he was here doing the most menial of labor. The vehicles and machines around him seemed to mock Celt, the people repairing them making him jealous. Why wasn’t he up there, flying one of those vehicles?

A clenching headache came down on his right temple, and Celt suddenly remembered Dr. Jack telling him to take things slow so his brain could heal. Celt almost suspected that being any angrier would just make his head hurt more, so he forced himself to focus on his task.

“You’ve got a long way to go, bucko,” Celt muttered to himself.

Jarrin smiled as he watched the new recruit work, while writing something on a clipboard. 

“Who’s that one?” Another engineer asked him.

“Celt...Kardiae, he’s new, Technician Auram,” Jarrin told the other.

“He looks...different. Did they bring someone out of sleep again?” Auram shrugged.

Jarrin squinted, looking at Celt’s straw-like hair, then replied, “I doubt it.”

Auram checked his gauntlet, then snarked, “Looks like the Seers’ messenger boy brought him in. Since when has he ever had any friends?”

Jarrin thought this over, checked his clipboard, then changed the subject, “You’d best get back to your post, Technician. I need to find a couple people who can help this poor man. He looks like he needs it.”

“Yes, sir,” Auram nodded before turning around to fix a Golden Condor’s landing assembly.

\-----

Out in space, aboard the Tumi, Dorad pressed his heel against a green metal object at the foot of his seat, keeping it still for the warp jump. With Dalán already programmed with his destination, Dorad kept his course steady as the golden starship blasted out of warp space, and soared back towards Earth.

Resisting the familiar grinding sensation of re-entry, Dorad braced himself as his helper fought to keep the Tumi on course to site Epsilon 01-C.

It took less than a half hour to find this site per his coordinates, though it proved more difficult to conceal the Tumi in an open Egyptian desert, particularly with the reflective properties of orichalcum. He had to rely on the ancient site’s vast shadow to conceal his vehicle.

When things looked safe, Dorad quietly opened the Tumi’s windshield and climbed out.

Dalán abruptly spoke, “Don’t forget your helmet, Dorad Elo.”

“Thank you for reminding me, Dalán,” the Inca cyborg laughed as he reached back into the cockpit.

He grabbed the helmet and looked at its front end, staring at its almost jade-green design that fit with his black-and-green robe. Dorad remembered having been given this by some of the Colombea security men, who told him he’d left it behind when embarking on his previous Earth trip.

Dorad felt glad to have his helmet back, as he suspected not everyone would react well to a man with a half-mask of gold and eyes like emeralds.

Then he slipped it on, and the helmet’s heads-up display filled his vision, Mu code scrolling by as its systems auto-calibrated. Dorad felt a small plug connecting to his skull, and the words “DATA STORAGE FOUND” appeared, no doubt referring to the storage implant connected to his eyes.

With the system check done, Dorad crossed around the corner of the ancient structure, and slipped inside.

Dorad switched to night vision to compensate for the dim stone corridor ahead, happy that his helmet filtered the dusty air around him.

“Now, where did they leave this part of the trail?” he muttered, scanning the stonework with a tool on his utility belt.

As he turned a corner, his helmet warned him of a heavily cracked wall over a high-vaulted stairway.

“Oh. That’s...not good,” he gasped.

Glancing up at the ceiling, Dorad resorted to using a grappling hook to grab onto a stone beam over the stairs. Climbing his way up, Dorad found just enough room to crouch down onto the beam.

Thinking fast, Dorad wrapped the 10-meter rope around his waist, keeping the hook latched to the beam itself. Then, exercising every bit of caution he had, Dorad grabbed his laser torch and began sealing the cracks in the stone wall, melting the material to keep the wall from collapsing. No way would he let the Chosen Ones die from a cave-in this way, let alone himself.

He tried not to stare too hard as the bright yellow beam slightly overrode his night vision.

He thought, “Thank Jack for optics incapable of getting retinal burns.”

Before long, his heads-up display logged the procedure as having taken a total of 22 minutes and 56 seconds. As Dorad latched his hook onto another beam to swing back down, he hoped the rest of this site wouldn’t take that long.

A few twists and turns down a darker series of hallways, and Dorad jumped back when a stone tile triggered something in a doorway.

In three seconds, two lines of metal spikes jutted from both sides of the doorway, blocking his way like the teeth of a giant monster. The tile was stuck, so there was no way of releasing the mechanism.

“A spike trap? Really?” he huffed. “By Inti, the people of Mu were never this paranoid! Ugh, no wonder they sent me out here.”

He hoped his welding torch would be able to cut through those spikes, for he could just faintly make out the mural chamber at the far end.


	7. Cairo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With half the team now divided across two countries, Tao makes landfall on the eastern Nile in search of his father Zel, while Dorad Elo has a few things on his mind after his last work site.

Just as Celt was saddened to see Dorad Elo leave, so was the crew of the Solaris II as Esteban, Zia and Athanaos when they approached the Golden Condor.

While an overhead crane loaded a small cache of supplies into the cockpit, Tao asked Esteban, “Are you sure you’ll be all right without us?”

Esteban coyly replied, “We’ve managed on our own just fine!” But even he wasn’t truly sure of those words.

Zia predicted what Tao was going to say, and giggled, “Even a nacaal can care for more than just those who wear the medallions!”

Puzzled by how Zia knew what he would’ve said, Tao just huffed and fished something shiny out of his shirt as he grumbled, “Fine, but Heva asked me to give you this, Esteban.”

Esteban took the object, which turned out to be an ornately shaped orichalcum bracelet, almost like Zia’s wristbands.

“Thanks, but...what is it?” the boy asked.

Tao shrugged, “I don’t know, I found it in my father’s study. All I know is, Heva said it’s important, but not for me.”

“Hmmm...” muttered Esteban as he slid the band over his right wrist. “Well, thanks for the bracelet either way.”

Athanaos, Mendoza, Isabella and the other adults were all standing at the port side of the deck, happy to see that Heva had erected handrails to keep everyone steady.

Athanaos took a deep breath, then laughed with Mendoza, “Ah, I missed the feel of traveling on the open sea!”

“Really?” Mendoza asked. “From your last tale, I thought you said you were in a shipwreck.”

“It wasn’t all that,” Athanaos shook his head. “My...travels with the Order took me all over, and most of those days were good – not bogged down by people like Ambrosius. Why, I think my wife once took me to sea on her boat a few times! Oh, my Accla!”

Mendoza shook his head, having to remember the blindsiding amount of information he’d seen in Kumlar’s library of video records. Then he remembered, and cleared his throat, “Ah yes, that ship I found belonged to Muran’Kel, didn’t it? I wondered why its design didn’t match your...clothing, Athanaos.”

“I’m not entirely sure myself,” shrugged Athanaos. Then he raised his head high and boasted, “But I have every faith that somewhere out there, we’ll find the next city, and with it, more pieces to this global puzzle!”

Mendoza chuckled slightly, “You sound like your son, all right!”

Isabella just crossed her arms and said nothing. She suspected being without some of the crew would mean more chances to understand Mendoza with less interruptions. But she couldn’t find the words to describe her plans. Then again, Isabella suspected Mendoza had his own ideas anyway.

Before either could say anything, Athanaos sighed, “Well, I’d best join my son before we lose any more time.”

So, the three adults regrouped at the bow.

Zia calmly asked, “You’ll think of us, won’t you, Mendoza?”

“Of course we will,” Mendoza nodded, patting her shoulder.

Esteban flashed his medallion at the Condor, and its beak opened. Then he advised, “When you find the next city, find a way to signal us, and we’ll fly right back to you.”

Tao gave him a puzzled look, then coughed, “I’m...not sure how that’ll work, but I’ll talk to Heva about it.”

“Okay. Well, best of luck to you. To all of you,” nodded Esteban.

“Same to you, Esteban!” Pedro replied.

Zia winked at Esteban as she smiled, “As they say...”

Esteban joined in as they both concluded, “Until the Great Reunion.”

And Esteban, Zia and Athanaos said their goodbyes to the rest of the crew as they boarded the Golden Condor.

Tao, Mendoza, Isabella, even Pedro and Sancho felt conflicted as they watched the Solaris II release its docking clamps, allowing the Golden Condor to launch itself off the deck. Mendoza and the others watched it fly East toward the Yucatan peninsula, leaving them behind on this ship.

“Well,” Tao sighed. “Better check how far we have to go.”

\-----

Some hours later...

QUERY

>> DATE: COYA RAYMI-25-1533

>> TIME: 14:26:09

>> LOC: Site ‘ANTILIA’

>> DATA [ANOMALOUS STRUCTURE IN VICINITY]

>> ANALYSIS MODE ENGAGED

Esteban watched these words scroll across the Condor’s screen as he slowly guided it over the Yucatan. It wasn’t part of the trail, but more a moment for nostalgia.

Out the windshield, they had a clear view of the multiple Mayan villages that circled what was once the first City of Gold, Antilia, the nearby Mountain of the Burning Shield now no more than a dead volcano.

“Remember this place, father?” Esteban rhetorically asked.

“I’d rather wish I didn’t,” Athanaos sighed.

“You weren’t awake when we were here last, Cibola!” laughed Esteban.

“True, but I did record what happened,” the Condor promptly answered. “Like that amusing time Tao strapped baskets of rocks to my wings! Very clever, I’ll give him that.”

“Doesn’t look like much else has changed,” Zia remarked as Esteban continued his circle.

“One thing has, it looks like,” pinged Cibola. “Take me lower, towards the middle.”

And Esteban did, observing the huge, tree-lined circle of rubble where the first City of gold once was. But as Esteban looked closer, he suddenly saw that the gaping fissure in the very center was now covered by a very large rock structure.

“Hey, that wasn’t there before!” gaped Esteban.

Athanaos leaned closer and looked out the windshield. Squinting his eyes, he remarked, “If I’m not mistaken, it looks to me like the protective dome over Antilia rose and sealed back up.”

Zia looked in his direction, and asked, “I wonder how that happened?”

“Muran’Kel must have done it,” scoffed Athanaos. “If all the other cities could seal up, she probably did that herself. But why? I thought that City was destroyed forever.”

Suddenly, Esteban remembered something Tao mentioned in Kumlar, and told his father, “Wait a second, Tao mentioned the Cities we visited were all ‘sealed to reform’, according to what the medallions showed him.”

“Reform?” asked Athanaos. “For what purpose?”

“I don’t know,” admitted Esteban, “But I suspect it has something to do with finding the other 3 cities.”

Then, Athanaos suddenly remembered the last thing he did in this place, “I have to get in touch with my colleagues. I think someone I know may live north of here.”

“Who?” asked Esteban.

“I don’t fully remember,” sighed Athanaos, “Just that they had the Order’s seal. Hidden, of course.”

Then the Condor advised, “I will keep my eyes open for that symbol, Athanaos,” as the Order’s symbol briefly flashed onto the monitor.

\-----

Up in space, Junior Engineer Celt Kardiae was on his one-hour lunch break in the main Engineering facility. He’d been guided by Supervisor Jarrin to a wide, if almost sterile-looking mess hall, all gray tables and chairs, with dozens of workers in identical red uniforms lining up for their meals before an industrial-looking service counter. Celt nervously joined the line, afraid some of these people were looking at him.

What puzzled Celt most as he waited for his turn, was that the snippets of chit-chat he could hear from the workers wasn’t the English or Quechua Celt had known for years.

When he made it to the counter and grabbed a tray, Celt was surprised to see that the food the servers handed out looked surprisingly tasty – a cup of fruit pieces, some green vegetable, and a hearty slice of some form of meat. They even smelled nice, so much that Celt didn’t care where they got this from, being up in space.

Then, collecting a glass of ice water from a dispenser, he found an empty seat and sat down. Celt leaned in, raised his knife and fork, and ate.

“Wow,” he thought. “Why does this taste so good?”

Then, noticing one of the other engineers sitting next to him, Celt looked up into the face of an older, tan-skinned man, bald save for a dark mustache and faint goatee. He looked back at Celt, curious about him.

At first, Celt looked for a badge on the man’s outfit, but it was etched in symbols he couldn’t recognize. Egyptian hieroglyphs? Runes? What language was that?

Celt looked down at his own outfit and saw his name badge also bore those symbols. He guessed his gauntlet was modified to show languages he knew.

But, trying to be civil about this, Celt spoke in Quechua, “Hello, my name’s Celt. What is yours?”

The engineer’s tone sounded friendly, but what he spoke was in a language far removed from Celt’s, just like the printed badges.

Seeing that this would get him nowhere, Celt held up his hands as a gesture for “Sorry”, went back to his meal and thought, “Well...this is gonna be a fun stay."

\-----

Tao and Mendoza had to work together in order to guide the Solaris into the Nile river, largely due to its long, heavy bulk.

It wasn’t hard guiding it through the delta via its Rosetta branch, but Tao still found himself a bit nervous about piloting a whole new vehicle into a country his team had never been to.

And just as he thought this, Mendoza advised, “I have traveled the Nile once or twice before. It’s a heavy route for trade to this day, so we’d best be on our guard.”

Tao nodded, but his eyes were focused on the monitors. He noticed one of them showed a camera feed of the land around them, as a group of square brackets passed from one object to another.

Tao just giggled, “Looks like Heva is curious about this place also.”

And Heva answered, “Indeed. My...internal logic tells me something is familiar about this place. Though I cannot specify what.”

That caught Tao’s attention, and he asked, “Maybe it has something to do with my father? Why else would have told me to come here?”

Mendoza patted Tao’s shoulder and assured him, “We’ll find out when we get there, Tao. Let’s not get in over our heads about this!”

“Right,” Tao nodded as he watched the solar sail clack into position. “That’s not the way of a Nacaal.”

Suddenly, Isabella arrived in the aft lift behind the bridge, and commanded, “Mendoza, you wanted to...train with me in ten minutes?”

“Oh yes, I’d forgotten, _se_ _ñorita_ ,” chuckled Mendoza as he turned around, “I’ll be right there!”

Tao decided to head for his cabin and joined him in the lift as well.

\-----

Down below, Pedro and Sancho were alone, both sitting in Pedro’s ornate cabin.

“Wh-wh-why did you want to see me, Pedro?” the latter asked

Pedro leaned forward in an armchair, “I wanted to say...I’m sorry for fighting you, back there on the galleon!”

But Sancho just turned around and crossed his arms.

“Sancho, I mean it!” begged Pedro. “I admit it: Owning a tavern wasn’t as great as I thought. Why, it doesn’t compare at all to a ship like this!”

“What does that m-m-matter?” Sancho huffed, “You’re still after finding treasure, I bet! Why else is your c-c-c-cabin built like this?!” he gestured to the orichalcum furnishings all around the cabin.

A lump caught in Pedro’s throat, and Sancho took that hesitation to walk towards the door as he huffed, “J-j-j-just as I thought.”

“No, wait!” Pedro whined as he stood up.

“What?” Sancho asked, his hand hovering near the door’s “open” button.

Then, remembering something he’d carried just in case, Pedro reached under the desk and showed his friend a small wooden barrel.

He showed it to Sancho and explained, “I saved a cask of the tavern’s finest mead, just in case. I saved it...for you, Sancho.”

Sancho’s eyes popped open when he saw this.

“You...you brought that for m-m-m-me?” gasped Sancho. “Why...I never thought...”

“Yes. I...felt terrible after we parted. It just...” Pedro sniffled, wiping away his tears, “It just wasn’t the same being in Barcelona without you, my...my best friend!”

Sancho held the little cask in his hands, eyeing it over, then set it on the desk as he walked closer.

Pedro begged, holding out his arms, “I’m sorry, Sancho, for everything. Can you...” he sniffled, “can you ever forgive me?”

Sancho hesitated for a moment, taking in the ridiculously over-decorated cabin. Having a vague sense of how helpers worked, he figured the ship had made this for Pedro, so he leaned forward and embraced Pedro in a hug.

“Y-y-yes, I do!” Sancho wheezed, surprised by Pedro’s strength.

Then as they stood up, Pedro grabbed up the cask and offered with excitement, “Let’s try this mead out in the lounge!”

“M-m-my thoughts exactly!” laughed Sancho as the two of them stepped out of the cabin.

\-----

On-screen and outside the viewport, the majority of the cruise up the Nile was mostly desert and trees. Some villages were strewn about, but few seemed to draw the crew’s interest. With the sun high in the sky now, they could speed through the river as long as they wanted with the ship’s automated oars.

Mendoza and Isabella once again proved an even match when they sparred together in the ship’s training room – the swimming pool having been covered by a panel to make room.

Tao had finished his third attempt at learning Mu language more closely. He’d worked through six lessons on his terminal, but with its usage in finding the next city, Tao wasn’t sure the phrase “The rat found the berry” would ever be important. Pushing buttons on a keyboard, rather than writing them certainly didn’t help things, but at least the program could actually show what mistakes he made.

Confident with a 73 out of 100 on “Lesson 5: Basic phrases”, Tao stood up, grabbed his encyclopedia and bindle, and stepped out of his cabin. The door seemed to stay open for a moment as Kokapetl fluttered out to join Tao in the hallway. Mendoza arrived soon after, and told Tao that the crew was waiting topside for the ship’s landing, though he had to give Pedro and Sancho a stern talking-to for drinking too much alcohol in the lounge. Knowing what that meant, Tao led Mendoza back to the aft lift, noticing that some of the signs on the cabin doors were now lit red instead of green, signifying their occupants’ departure.

As they re-entered the bridge, Mendoza now had one of his sea charts handy, and when compared to the ship’s close-range map, he could tell they were closing in on their destination.

He spoke to Tao, “Judging by this map, we’re approaching Cairo now. It’ll be on the left bank, but we’ll need to do some walking to reach it.”

Tao just shrugged, “Anything for the trail to the next city.”

Then as he adjusted course to close in on the East bank, Tao asked the ship, “Heva, can you disguise yourself again when we land?”

“Negative, my captain,” the helper answered, “I lack appropriate lumino-guises for this country, I’m afraid.”

“Great,” Tao scoffed, “Everyone will notice,”

Mendoza assured him, “Cheer up, Tao. The people we saved in Tumbes were happy to see it, let’s give this the benefit of the doubt.”

Tao then glanced at Mendoza and shrugged, “All right, Mendoza, I’ll take your word for it.”

“Believe in the power of Heva!” squawked Kokapetl.

“Don’t you mean Mu, old friend?” Tao giggled.

“Ah, I appreciate the compliment nonetheless,” Heva seemed to chuckle.

Then, as the Solaris Mark II slid close to the shore, Tao reached for a lever marked with a trident icon, and pushed it forward, releasing the anchor into the water. When it hit the riverbed, Heva promptly deployed a handrailed metal ramp from the port hull.

“Landing procedure successful,” Heva announced. “What is your next course of action, Tao?”

“We’ll be going ashore,” Tao stated. “I want to find out if my father was here. Maybe he left a clue to the next City of Gold?”

“Understood,” Heva replied. “I have a recommendation for you.”

“Oh? What’s that?” Tao asked.

And Heva answered, his icon pulsing on the top right monitor, “To prevent unauthorized boarding, I will retract the landing ramp once you leave. Make sure to remove my control disc before you go. When you are ready to return, use said disc to reflect sunlight onto my sail. I will then re-deploy the ramp.”

Mendoza was surprised to hear this, but remarked with a smile, “Very clever, how did you come up with that?”

“By studying the Golden Condor’s similar method,” Heva answered. “Cibola, its helper, was quite willing to share data.”

“Well then,” Tao nodded, “Guess we’ll have to thank him when the Condor comes back.”

“Until the Great Reunion,” Heva finished, before the crew watched the screens power down one by one. Tao promptly took the Solaris’ medallion out of the wheel and stuffed it into his bindle.

“Let’s go,” Mendoza advised. “The sooner we get up there, the sooner we might be able to find your father.”

“You’re right,” Tao nodded, as the two of them rode the elevator down to the top deck.

\-----

With his work with Site Epsilon 01-C complete, Dorad Elo stood outside, observing the surrounding desert with his helmet’s zoom features while his robe fluttered in the strong, sandy winds.

As he watched, Dorad held his right hand to a button on his helmet, and paged, “Enforcer double-oh-seven reporting. Site repairs are complete. Interior stairwell suffered minor seismic damage, but cracks have been repaired using laser tool. I should also note that a spike trap had to be disabled. I say again: Site Epsilon-zero-one-see contained a lethal set of spikes that would have impaled the Chosen Ones if the wrong tile was stepped on. Forgive me for questioning the designs of Mu or Atlantis, but I fail to see the benefits in implementing defense systems that would grievously wound, if not kill those who are meant to find vital clues to the Cities of Gold. If any more of these devices must be disabled or altered in future sites, I will have to request additional protection or supplies for my mission to succeed. Neither I nor Custodian Muran’Kel should be responsible for the Chosen Ones’ survival, but it seems these ancient defenses leave me no choice. Awaiting next mission orders, Enforcer seven out.”

Slightly angered by the complaint he just filed, Dorad trudged down the dune and stepped toward the Tumi, its hatch raising as he approached.

\-----

Within a few hours of walking, they found Cairo, and what a place it was. Beyond a high stone wall was a bustling city constructed of sculpted mud, every building ornately crafted and covered with cloth and decorations of all types, many of which played host to outdoor shops and stalls.

“This place almost looks like Hormuz!” yipped Tao as he looked around.

Mendoza clapped him on the shoulder and laughed. “I told you this place would dwarf Hormuz in its size, you’ve seen only one street!”

Kokapetl relished in the many scents of spices and food about them. Pedro and Sancho couldn’t wait to find something for themselves. Isabella kept on her guard, trying not to expose too much of the clothes beneath her robe.

“Wonder what we’ll find in this place?” asked Isabella, trying not to think about her late mother Malinché. Isabella muttered to herself, “She’s gone, Malinché is gone, she can’t ruin our day.”

“Are you all right, _se_ _ñorita_?” Mendoza asked her.

“I’m fine,” She huffed, feeling for her whip.

Tao creased his lip as he scanned from store to store, “Now if I were my father, where would I have been?”

“This looks like a needle in a haystack to me!” whined Pedro.

“We could be here f-f-f-for hours!” Sancho added.

Then Tao remembered the schematic of the jar in Zel’s office, and flipped to a sketch he made in his notebook.

Tao looked it over, then remarked, “I’ve got a hunch,” and showed the page to Mendoza. “I think he might have made this!”

Mendoza took the book and stared at the drawing, then cleared his throat, “Well, that narrows things down at least. Now we just need to find a place that sells pottery.”

“Makes pottery, I’d think,” Tao added as he stuffed the book into his bindle.

Then the group set off northward along the Al-Mu’izz street.

Little did they realize, someone was following them from the rooftops.

\-----

It wasn’t long before Tao and the others came upon a pottery stall, but with no tell-tale orichalcum in sight, all Tao could do was hold up the drawing of his father’s jar and ask if the proprietor sold any like it.

Alas, the man there explained that neither he nor his apprentice in the back could make a shape that pristine.

“Do you know anywhere else that makes this type of vase?” asked Mendoza, covering for Tao.

“I have been around this street for years,” the old potter admitted, “You won’t find anything like that here in this _souk_ , but...the Sultan might know something.”

“Where can we find this Sultan?” pressed Tao.

“In the Citadel. I...I don’t know the way, just that it’s a great distance southeast of here.

“We’ll find a way, thank you,” nodded Mendoza.

Isabella had to stop to buy water for herself and her partners. She could only get two with her orichalcum coins, so Mendoza had to keep his on his belt as all times.

As the group walked on, Mendoza found himself in an all-too-familiar situation, bringing back the pair’s uncomfortable man-child behavior in the deserts near what used to be Tseilla.

“Any fighting over our water,” Mendoza warned, pointing over to the canteen, “And you’ll have to answer to my sword, or her whip. Is that understood?” He winked as he pointed to Isabella.

Pedro and Sancho froze, and Isabella flashed a knowing smirk.

“We...we won’t do that!” Pedro stammered, sweating in the heat, “right, Sancho?”

“Sir, n-n-no sir!” Sancho complied, giving Mendoza a hasty salute.

“Good,” nodded Mendoza.

\-----

With no further updates from Mission Control on where his next site would be, Dorad decided to go for a sky cruise in the Tumi.

At about 3,000 feet in the air, Dorad used his ship’s scanners to monitor the area around Cairo. He could detect the Solaris II’s signature from miles away, but not the two medallions. He’d heard talk among the Chosen Ones about splitting paths with their new ship, so Dorad didn’t question it.

It was easy to observe Tao’s group following the winding desert roads to the distant Cairo Citadel, but Dorad knew not to act too closely.

Then Dalán, the ship’s intelligence, piped up, “Dorad Elo, our friends are being followed by an unidentified figure on city rooftops. Immediate interception recommended.”

One of the holographic displays lit up, showing a closeup of that mysterious figure on the roof, highlighted by targeting brackets.

“Negative, Dalán,” Dorad replied in his usual clinical manner, “My no-contact rule still applies.” As the ship’s camera followed the oddly clothed figure, Dorad noticed how they jumped from roof to roof. “Whoever that is, they sure know how to jump, I’ll say that much. Almost wish I could beat them with my grappling hook.”

The screen blinked green twice, then Dalán continued, “Subject now logged in mem-mor-ee.”

“Let’s get out of here, Dalán,” Dorad huffed as he turned the control yoke counterclockwise. “If Control doesn’t give me new orders in the next half hour, I’m warping back home.”

“They will come, El Dorado,” the ship tried to assure her pilot. “All things...take...time.”

Dorad smiled as he tapped the dashboard with his left hand, “You always know what to say, don’t you? What would I do without your sweet voice to guide me through the cosmos?”

Dalán just laughed, a warm feminine laugh under a faint electronic filter.


	8. The Exchange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A foe not seen for many seasons rears his face again, and this time his motives are different. But can the man's errors be atoned for?

Tao was running out of breath with the amount of twists and turns they had to take in order to reach that big building known as the Cairo Citadel. Each member had to take small swigs of water, one at a time, in order to not pass out from heat exhaustion.  
Isabella had been covering Mendoza’s 6 o’clock for most of the walk, as she didn’t like the idea of being followed around here.  
Strangest of all, this portion of the road was suspiciously empty, not a citizen in sight, as if everyone had run away just twenty minutes before their arrival. The only thing unaffected were the shops, still open and ready, but the owners looked scared, reluctant to conduct business all of a sudden. How was that possible in a souk like this?  
“Doesn’t this place seem...quieter than where we were earlier?” Tao asked.  
“It is very unusual, yes,” Mendoza nodded as he checked his flank in the streets.  
But just as they found the road leading straight to the Citadel, Isabella noticed an odd figure staring down at them from a high building.  
The person walked away as soon as she saw them, prompting her to raise her whip and shout, “Who’s up there?! Come out and show yourself!”  
“Isabella, is something wrong?” Mendoza asked as he turned around.  
“DANGER! DANGER!” screeched Kokapetl.  
“Look out!” yelped Isabella while trying to strike the strange figure with her whip.  
Tao, Pedro and Sancho could only back up in fright, uncertain of what was happening.  
Then the mysterious being pulled out a pistol-sized crossbow, and before anyone could draw their weapons or run away, one by one, each figure quickly found themselves knocked unconscious by a green tranquilizer dart to the neck. The assailant didn’t miss a single shot, but everyone on the ground somehow missed this figure, as if Isabella’s flintlock bullets simply weaved around this person. Not that she could tell from three stories below.  
Once the targets were down – including the bird, the dark-robed figure climbed down and spoke something in Arabic. Seconds later, a squad of soldiers sprang from their camouflaged positions, rounded up each member of Tao’s group, and promptly began carrying them to the palace.

\-----

Mendoza slowly opened his eyes, a muffled conversation slowly becoming clearer.  
“Fate sure is strange, isn’t it?” a calm man remarked. “Of all the people to come by during my business exchange, it just happens to be Mendoza!”  
Someone else, a woman replied, “Indeed. My twin sighted him in Spain only weeks prior. There’s something...unusual afoot about these others.”  
“You’re right,” the man agreed. “Oh look, they’re waking up! Good!”  
Mendoza gasped as he finally managed to get a good look at the people around him. Front and center stood a tall, lean man with gray hair and a trident-shaped goatee. To his right was a tan-skinned woman with long, jet-black hair beneath a hood.  
Each member suddenly realized their wrists were bound with lengths of rope, even Isabella’s, preventing her from reaching her weapons.  
Wherever they were, the room was inlaid with all manner of ancient Egyptian artifacts. Gold sculptures, scrolls of papyrus, jars, clay tablets, and more.  
“Gomez?!” Mendoza finally yelped. “What are you doing here?”  
“I should ask the same of you, my good friend!” the figure laughed as he poured himself a glass of wine. “How long has it been since we last met? A year? Two years? No matter, I figured our paths would cross again sooner or later.”  
Mendoza scoffed, “I suspected as much when you deserted Pizarro’s army with Gaspard. It was only a matter of time.”  
“Quite right,” Gomez nodded as he examined one of the artifacts.  
Tao finally asked, “So...what are all these things on the walls, anyway?”  
Sancho was disturbed by a golden death mask on one wall.  
Then Gomez turned, crossed his arms, and smiled, “They are relics of this country’s ancient past. The Ottoman Sultan has been rather interested in collecting them for preservation, and while I myself have little interest beyond money, my assistant Nadakh here tells me there is still more to find up in those pyramids,” he pointed out one window, and the group – tied though they were, managed to get a good look.  
Beyond the sprawling desert city of Cairo, they could just faintly see a group of enormous stone pyramids on the horizon.  
“Why kidnap us, then?” asked Tao.  
“Because of that peculiar boat I discovered on the Nile,” Nadakh replied. “According to Egyptian myth, only the Egyptian god Ra could pilot such a vessel.”  
Tao suddenly noticed his ship’s metal sail glinting in the sunlight.  
“You’re not entirely wrong, Nadakh,” Gomez smiled. “Why Tao, isn’t that the same ship that took out my galleon when it exploded? Gaspard and I were there to see it!”  
Tao turned around and hastily explained, “It’s a copy! We...found a machine that made us a new version!”  
“Interesting,” Gomez smirked. “That might be just what we need to cross the Nile – My travel route was different, you see.”  
“And why should we let you aboard my Solaris?” Tao grumbled.  
“Yes, you seem rather capable with your new...friend here,” Mendoza huffed.  
Sancho had to hold Pedro back from attacking Gomez head on.  
“N-N-No, Pedro, she’ll kill us!” pleaded Sancho.  
“I see you’re someone who knows his place, that’s good.” Gomez sneered at the two men.  
Finally, Nadakh unveiled a golden tablet and explained, “Because, Tao, I know you are looking for not only the potter that shapes orichalcum, but also the Cities of Gold as well. And Gomez says you can read the language of Mu.”  
Tao’s jaw dropped when he heard this, and he begged, “Let me see that!”  
“Sadly, it’s not that simple,” Nadakh admitted, obscuring its face as she turned it. “It is encrypted with another language. One which I gather is often seen inside those pyramids.”  
The temptation was promising, to say the least. After an hour searching fruitlessly for a lead to his father, Tao could almost jump at the chance for a real clue. But after what Zia said, trust seemed too distant for these people.  
Then again, this group was almost flying blind without a clue as to what the next city would be, and they needed a trail. With Ambrosius out of the picture, who knew what other people would be after the secrets of Mu or Atlantis?  
The only lead they had was Ambrosius’ claim that the next City of Gold was in Egypt, according to the Pyramid of Mu. Since that was where they were, was this ancient civilization tied to that City?  
But, Tao knew, he had to keep the upper hand in the long run. Something Esteban would do.  
“So, do we have a deal?” Gomez offered his hand. “You lead me to the pyramids, and my friend will show you the location of your mysterious potter.”  
“NO! NO! NO!” squawked Kokapetl.  
Isabella resisted an urge to smack that bird to shut it up.  
Finally, Tao grasped the man’s hand and shook it as he sighed, “Fine, we’ll help you.”  
“Excellent,” Gomez smiled. “I have some business matters to attend to, but meet me by the Nile in an hour and we will join you. In fact, since you’ve caught me in a particularly good mood,” Gomez then instructed Nadakh to untie the group while he pulled a handful of coins out of his coat pocket. Gomez then stuffed them into one of several pouches on the table behind him, and handed it over. “Here, Mendoza. This should buy you and your friends some food down in town while we wait.”  
Mendoza took the pouch, surprised how generous Gomez was.  
“Thank you...Gomez,” Mendoza complimented Gomez as he examined the pouch.  
“My pleasure, it’s the least I can do to make up for our...past incidents, Mendoza,” Gomez bowed.  
Then, with the matter settled, Gomez directed Nadakh to show them the way back to the streets outside the Citadel.  
Tao didn’t like the way Nadakh was smiling at him.

\-----

The Golden Condor’s flight into North America proved surprisingly uneventful. All around they could see a sprawling plain of grass, desert, and the occasional banks of trees for miles above a relatively flat terrain.  
The more Esteban stared out the windshield, the more he felt something was wrong with this plan Tao had talked him into; He’d hardly noticed the flight stick was veering slightly to the right, resulting in a slow north-east curve.  
“Wait a second,” he finally asked, “Do we even know what the trail is for this place? Where are we even going?”  
“That’s a good question,” Zia admitted with a shrug. “Wasn’t Tao the one with the trail to Egypt?”  
Then Esteban tilted his head back and groaned, “Yeah, he was! Great idea Tao! Have us split up when you’re the only one with a trail! Thanks a lot!”  
“Easy, my son,” Athanaos patted his shoulder. “I’ve dealt with situations like this many times. It’s only a matter of talking to the right people.”  
Esteban reflected on the myriad of stops they’d taken from site to site. It was awkward getting used to different cultures at first, but at least the people they met helped them along anyway, more or less.  
“You’re right, father,” sighed Esteban. Then his eyes turned to the control panel, and he asked, “What do you think of this, Condor?”  
“By preliminary analysis of past data,” the Golden Condor answered, “My guess is there’s bound to be native people in the vicinity somewhere. With how open this terrain is, I’m sure you will know it when you see it.”  
“Right,” Esteban huffed. “I guess that’s the best thing to go for.”

\-----

Celt felt like his arms would fall off when his shift was done, and the only way he could find Dorad’s apartment was by Carvana giving him a card Dorad had left for him at the desk.  
The city outside was so vast that the crew relied on a magnetic train to cross from one sector to another. Celt kept to himself as he rode it, clinging to his empty seat.  
Seer Holkin, along with the other two, was already home by this time. He stared dully out his apartment’s window as the train whirred past on its raised railway.  
But an impulse convinced him to turn left, and the first thing Holkin saw was an enormous portrait of a portly-looking man in a broad Mu military uniform. Over a dozen ribbons, badges and medals studded his body, some of which were also on display in tiny wooden frames on either side of the painting. The man’s face, however, seemed to betray the body’s successful look, his eyes glowering down upon the room as if judging everything in its vision.  
Holkin seemed to feel this as well, as he grumbled, “Don’t give me that look, Father. I know what you’re thinking. Can you not see I have tried my best to keep this place in line? What more do you want from me?!”  
Holkin walked toward the fireplace-like mantle below the painting and examined the many objects upon it. A locked orichalcum coffer filled with ashes sat in the middle, its sealed lid engraved with Mu glyphs that read: “Dolhom – The man who gave his life to preserve our culture against all odds.”  
He saw the date of his death: Era 7, Year 650.  
“Have you really been dead that long, father?” Holkin groaned, straining from crying. “Here, I once dreamed with my brethren upon the fringes of death, and day by day hence, I carry my duty to look after this spaceborne City of Gold. But each time, some mistake destroys an otherwise perfect procedure!” Holkin glared at the portrait again, and pointed at the figure’s face as he snarled, “The procedures YOU always fulfilled, WITHOUT making mistakes!”  
Then he sat back in an armchair, ran his palm across his face, then sighed, aimlessly looking up at the ceiling.  
“How can I ensure our Great Reunion if...” he gritted his teeth, “My BEST ENFORCER cannot even do what he’s told?!”  
Then a headache came over Holkin, making him remember the pills he kept for his stress.  
“Two cities remain, then this will all come to an end,” Holkin grumbled as he washed down his medicine with water. “Of that much, I can be certain.”  
He glanced at a panel in the wall, remembering how he’d punched it, broken it, and stripped out its components days ago to keep a certain Custodian from entering his room.

\-----

After a relatively uncomfortable meal at a food stall due to their new foe, Tao’s group took their time leaving Cairo for the Nile.  
“What could Gomez be doing all the way out here?” Tao asked.  
“I’m not sure,” answered Mendoza, “I’m surprised myself with how generous he was back there. He must have very good relations with the Sultan to let us go this easily.”  
“I don’t trust him at all,” Pedro snorted. “Nobody gives us money like that without tricking us!”  
“F-f-for once, I think you’re right,” Sancho agreed.  
When they reached the shore, Tao nervously pulled out his medallion and reflected the glaring sunlight onto the Solaris’ metal sails. As promised, the ship’s boarding ramp lowered, and the crew began boarding.  
Tao boarded last, noticing quickly that Gomez and Nadakh were already being escorted here by Ottoman soldiers. The boy smiled at their puzzled expressions of the Solaris.  
Pedro and Sancho ran for the lower decks in fright, but Tao returned to his spot on the bridge, and Mendoza and Isabella remained near the port handrails to observe the people on the shore.  
“Well? Are you coming?” Mendoza shouted over the distance.  
Gomez signaled that he would board, but before his foot could so much as touch it, the boarding ramp spontaneously slid back up, a hexagon on the sail rotated, and Heva’s voice boomed from exterior speakers, “Subject Gomez, stop where you are! Do not attempt to board!”  
“Who said that? Was it Mendoza?” asked Gomez.  
“No, I am right here, Gomez!” Mendoza replied, waving over the railing.  
“The Solaris is the one who speaks!” Heva blared, the metal hexagon charging for firing.  
On the bridge, Tao saw one monitor showing a camera view of the shore, a familiar crosshair aimed a few feet away from Gomez, while another screen depicted a top-down schematic of the hexagon pointed in the same direction.  
Gomez begged, “Please, I mean no harm this time! I am not here to kill anyone!”  
Mendoza was about to speak, but Isabella decided it was better to retreat for the lower deck, as she didn’t trust standing around on top of an angry ship. And Mendoza took her word for it as the two of them ran for the aft lift.  
“Liar!” barked Heva. “You were the one who kidnapped my pilot’s friend and ordered the deaths of several dozen villagers! Go back to whence you came if you wish not to die yourself!”  
Then Tao’s eyebrows rose when the switch for the hexagon moved by itself. His heart sank when he suddenly remembered how a vehicle of Mu could sometimes take control away from its pilot if necessary, like how the Golden Condor did whenever Esteban flew poorly.  
Then, charged to capacity, the hexagon unfolded into a sheet, and its panels directed an enormous beam of light toward the sandbank. Gomez shrieked as he jumped back just in time, the two Ottoman guards having to stop their robes from burning.  
“Will you leave NOW?” growled Heva.  
“What was that light?!” yelped Nadakh.  
“That...” huffed Gomez, trying to keep his composure, “I remember that light all too well. Heat from the sun, it was.”  
Nadakh looked up at the sky and muttered, “Ra must be angry today.”  
“Heva, stop!” begged Tao. “Gomez is different now; he has no ship! No cannons to fire!”  
“What difference does it make?” Heva argued back over the internal speakers. “For all we know, this man could be conspiring against you and your friends at this very moment!”  
Then, wiping his coat off, Gomez looked up at the Solaris Mark II, raised his arms above his head, and pleaded, “All right! I am sorry for what I did in the past! I swear I will not kill or injure anyone; all I ask for is safe passage across the Nile!”  
The hexagon snapped back to its idle position and its lever rose back up. Then Heva’s icon appeared on four of the ten screens, and he asked Tao, “Does Gomez speak the truth, Tao? His galleon was side by side with mine then, why wouldn’t he try to destroy me from within?”  
Suddenly Tao’s memory of that terrible incident hit him with its full clarity. And, knowing how much video data helpers like Heva could record, Tao retorted, “No, Heva. Gomez didn’t make you explode! It...I did! Zia told me to! And if I hadn’t, more people would have died!” He took a deep breath, then added, “I built your...um, new body to make up for our loss, so can’t we let the past go?”  
Then, every single screen played back a jittery camera view of Tao and Zia on the original Solaris’ bridge, tracking the moment he pushed its self-destruct lever, up until the camera fizzled into a swirling rainbow fractal as the entire ship detonated.  
As the recording looped over and over, Heva stuttered in disjointed electronic words, “This is...I can’t...I...c-c-c...I can’t...I-I-I...I cannot believe...I cannot fathom...I do not under-st-st-st-stand...Wh-wh-wh-why would you...Why would he...”  
Then, Tao heard a muffled click, then a loud “BEEEEP!” and then all screens cut to a blank golden display. Red Mu glyphs scrolled over it, which Tao deciphered as: “CRITICAL FAULT: Helper unit failure. CAUSE: Logic Conflict. Helper now offline for analysis.”  
“Aww, I knocked him out,” Tao lowered his head.  
“Knocked out! Knocked out!” Kokapetl tweeted.  
The monitors went dark, followed by the familiar red sun icon, then everything returned to its normal nautical readouts.  
Curious, Tao checked the maintenance panel again, and sure enough, Heva’s toggle switch had snapped back to the “off” position.  
Then he searched the controls more carefully, and first found a smaller lever next to the anchor switch that happened to control the ramp. Tao extended it, then moved to a control deck at one end, where he sighted a flexible metal tube that ended in a black bulb. Finding some instructions printed on the panel, Tao then selected an output, held down one switch, and spoke to the bulb, “All right, Gomez, you can come on board now.”  
Gomez heard Tao’s words over the external speakers, called, “Thank you!” and ascended the ramp with Nadakh.  
“Who would’ve thought Ra’s ship would have such a temper?” asked Nadakh as they crossed the deck.  
“Not me,” Gomez shrugged.  
Tao observed their arrival, retracted the ramp, and left the system on standby while he left to speak to Mendoza downstairs.


	9. Nightmares and Mishaps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pedro and Sancho take on the challenge of kitchen duty, and Celt Kardiae's memories begin to stir.

At this point in time, Gomez and Nadakh were inside the crew corridor, observing everyone’s names on the green and red-lit signs. But before the two could examine these doors more closely, Mendoza emerged from the crew room at the far end and beckoned Gomez inside.  
When he and Nadakh entered, Tao and Isabella were waiting there as well. Pedro and Sancho tried to distract themselves with making the next meal, per Mendoza’s order. Apparently Muran’Kel had left them a multi-cultural cookbook to go with her huge shipment of preserved food and drink, but neither Pedro nor Sancho were the best at math, making it difficult to grasp the correct way to portion the ingredients.  
Nevertheless, they persevered, daring to try creating a basic chicken-vegetable stew.  
“The crew on that Galleon did it, how hard could it be?” Pedro laughed.  
As Gomez sat down at one end of the table, he remarked, “Well, Tao. Thank you for inviting me aboard your ship. Makes me wish I’d taken the time to explore the original one.”  
Fighting back his anger at being this close to a shady foe, Tao muttered, “You...didn’t miss much.”  
Then Mendoza jumped straight to the point, “So, Gomez. I assume you know the route across the Nile?”  
“Of course,” Gomez smiled as he reached into his coat.  
He laid out a map of the river and turned it to face Mendoza.  
“We are here at the moment,” Gomez pointed to the East shore where there was a marked road into Cairo. “Giza is on this bank.” And he traced his finger across the river, in a broad diagonal line that passed several miles across.  
Nadakh chimed in, “It will take some hours of walking to reach the Pyramids from there, but the way should be easy.” She paused, then added, “If you have enough water, that is.”  
“And...” Mendoza leaned forward with interest, “Why tell us right away?”  
“Because we know you want to see what’s inside those Pyramids as well,” Gomez smirked, a sinister expression Mendoza had rarely seen when he’d worked alongside the man.  
Tao felt a chill go down his spine. He’d told Mendoza earlier about Heva’s logic-induced shutdown, but decided not to repeat it to Gomez. Instead, Tao just asked, “And when I decipher that tablet you got there, then what?”  
Then Gomez crossed his arms and sat back, “I’ll...decide on that when we get there.”  
Somehow, Tao expected that.  
Then Isabella decided to wave her flintlock across the table, and she threatened, “I’m warning you, señor Gomez, we’re as armed as you and your little friend are. I don’t like people who double back on their word, so should you try to hurt Mendoza or our teammates, I won’t hesitate to use this! Understand?”  
Mendoza’s eyebrows perked at hearing his closest rival care for him that much.  
Gomez held his hands up and tried not to stammer. He cleared his throat, “I understand, madame!”  
Then Mendoza intervened, “Easy, señorita. I’m sure there will be no need for violence from here on.”  
As all this was happening, Pedro and Sancho were having a hard time preparing the meat and vegetables. Pedro had the stewpot’s burner set too high, and Sancho didn’t know what the term “Defrost” meant, meaning that the meat couldn’t cook through properly in the adjacent skillet. They didn’t dare touching some sort of cabinet next to the stove, as its control pad scared them off with its complexity. From the icon over it, the device seemed to be a sort of mini-oven that cooked food using hyper-focused sunlight, like the solar cannon outside.  
Sancho advised, “I th-th-think we should ask Tao for help, Pedro.”  
But Pedro just scoffed, “Him? What for? We have this covered!”  
Just as Gomez and Nadakh stood to leave, Mendoza turned around to ask, “How is the stew coming along?”  
“Fine! Just fine!” Pedro insisted.  
But to the group’s horror, in minutes, the broth in the stew boiled off, scorching the pot and filling the room with fumes, also setting off a beeping alarm in the ceiling. Tao gaped at the sensor monitor over the stove when he saw that Burner 2 was at 100% temperature charge, and the atmosphere gauge was reading “Critical”.  
Gomez, Isabella and Nadakh were coughing their guts out at the horrid vapors trapped in this room, while Mendoza used his cape to cover his face.  
“Where...(cough!)...is that horrible stench...(hack!)...coming from?!” gagged Gomez as he reached for the door back to the crew hallway.  
Nadakh helped him through the door, and the two of them decided to wait in the corridor.  
“Get out of the way, you idiots!” Tao screamed as he reached for the stove controls and hastily turned the burners off.  
Pedro and Sancho were startled to hear Tao insult them like that, but at this point, they were as disturbed as the others were.  
“Tao, what are you doing?” gasped Mendoza.  
“Hold on, I’m working on it!” Tao grumbled.  
Tao’s eyes widened when he spotted a red-and-white striped panel marked “Safety Controls” in Muan. He ran to it, unlatched the panel, and raised it, sighting a series of switches underneath. He spotted one marked “VENT CYCLE” and flipped it.  
Seconds later, a chime sounded, and the fumes rapidly dissipated, sucked up through a shaft to the top deck. The atmosphere bar on the screen dropped back to normal as well.  
“There, that should do it,” Tao sighed as he re-latched the panel, happy to breathe normally again.  
Mendoza had a stern look on his face when he saw the botched meal on the stove.  
“I see I overestimated your skills at cooking!” he scolded them.  
“It wasn’t our fault! We don’t even know how this...equipment works!” whined Pedro.  
“I couldn’t r-r-read this book here either!” added Sancho, showing it to Mendoza.  
Mendoza looked at it, noticing the carefully described measurements.  
“Well, I see your point there,” sighed Mendoza as he shut the book and set it back on the counter. “But since you made this mess, you’ll have to clean it also!”  
“What?!” the two them gasped.  
“You heard,” teased Isabella. Then, she paused, “I’ll help you with that,” and rolled up her sleeves as she approached.  
The deep-set sink to the right of the stove was far easier to use with its simple taps and faucet, and it didn’t take much to throw out the wasted food in a disposal chute nearby. But still, the two men felt ashamed for botching a simple meal, especially with the shady Gomez around.

\-----

Speaking of whom, Mendoza found him and Nadakh waiting in the corridor, as Mendoza and Tao decided to head for the bridge to chart their new course.  
Gomez asked, “Is it over?”  
“Yes, we got rid of those fumes,” nodded Mendoza. “Tao helped with that.”  
A look of intrigue passed over Gomez’ face, but Nadakh remained rigid like a statue.  
“We’re heading up to the bridge to chart our new course,” Tao remarked.  
“I see,” Gomez nodded.  
“Is there any place to sit down besides that room?” Nadakh asked.  
Tao hesitated for a moment, remembering all the sensitive areas in the ship. But, seeing they had their trust for now, the boy answered, “There’s a lounge up ahead if you take the far left door out of the crew room, and go down the hall to the second door on your right.”  
“Thank you,” Gomez nodded. “We’ll...try not to be a bother.”  
And they left as the two groups passed each other, Tao admittedly wishing for some food after the kitchen fiasco.  
Up on the bridge, Tao raised the anchor, and Mendoza rotated 40 degrees Starboard to start their journey.  
“Do you think Heva could help us the rest of the way?” asked Mendoza. “He seems to understand this ship’s systems better than we do.”  
“I’m not sure,” Tao admitted. “The system said he was taken offline for analysis. Who knows what could happen if I switch him back on?”  
“I see your point,” nodded Mendoza. Then he shrugged with a laugh, “Well, better to pilot this on our own than the Condor, I suppose!”  
“Wonder what Esteban is up to with that bird?” Tao remarked, looking out the windows.

\-----

The Golden Condor’s targeting display sighted a series of huts on an open plain. They resembled tall, conical, beehive-like structures, and a myriad of people were gathered in a square between them.  
“Esteban, I’ve found something,” the bird told his pilot, bringing up its viewpoint on the cockpit monitor.  
Esteban watched as the screen marked the village with a pair of green brackets.  
“Looks like a village all right,” nodded Esteban. “Guess we should check it out.”  
“Be careful how you land, my pilot,” the Condor warned.  
“I know, Cibola,” Sighed Esteban, “Don’t you think I’ve gotten the hang of it by now?”  
Zia snickered from that, but said nothing.  
“Yes, I don’t doubt that you have,” the craft answered.  
Athanaos suddenly started laughing, “I have a feeling those people will take us more seriously if they see you, Cibola.”  
“Intriguing,” Cibola replied.  
Esteban could just picture the Condor’s lumino-projection with a giant grin on his face, though it had remained inactive since they left Kumlar.  
Then Esteban tilted the snake-shaped flight stick downward as he said, “Well, guess we should start looking.”  
Outside, several villagers stopped what they were doing to observe the huge orichalcum bird tilt counterclockwise, stabilize itself, then land with a thud as its talons softened the impact. Esteban removed the craft’s control disc and climbed down the boarding beak, followed by Zia and Athanaos.

\-----

Dorad Elo was given the go-ahead to return to headquarters, and he warped straight back without question.  
But when he walked up to the Central Tower for his debriefing, he hardly spoke a word due to his frustration. Seer Lunicus even twitched with fright when Dorad’s video log showed the spike trap from Site Epsilon 01-C.  
Dorad was happy Seer Holkin wasn’t in the room, as he had to fight an urge to punch him in the face for sending Dorad into that much danger unprepared.  
Finally, Lunicus sighed, “I’m sorry, Enforcer Seven. By the standards of this site, my guess is that those spikes were installed later by the natives...what were they, Gane’Ara?”  
“Egyptians,” the spectacled Seer answered, finding the appropriate data. “Probably to deter grave robbers.”  
Dorad rolled his optics, “That would’ve been useful in Kumlar, but anyway...”  
Lunicus patted Dorad’s outstretched hand, “Don’t let one obstacle ruin your whole mission, Enforcer.” She chuckled, “Believe me, that’s five times more than what Holkin would say. We’ll get your protection, but for now, go home and rest.” She snickered as she added, “I’m sure your friend Celt misses you.”  
“Thank you, Seer Lunicus,” Dorad bowed as he detached his data cable.

\-----

But though Dorad Elo slept peacefully beside his partner in their newly upsized bunk, Celt could hardly rest at all.  
Flashes of his first days aboard the Colombea kept filling his head.  
When he did fall asleep, Celt found himself back in the conference room. Except this time, the three Seers towered over him, their bodies featureless and black except for the piercing white glow of their eyes and Gane’Ara’s spectacles. He was looking at enormous Shadow People.  
Conversely, Celt felt only two feet tall in proportion, the Seers’ heads about a story from his.  
Every Seer glared down at him, eyes white without pupils. When they spoke, their voices mixed together, each one distorted and overlapping with the others.  
“Why are you here?” “Where do you come from?” “He doesn’t belong here.” “You serve no purpose to us.” “You’re useless.” “He can’t even wield a gun.”  
Suddenly, the black shadowy figure of Holkin rose, pointed a solitary finger at Celt, and shouted in a low, slow-motion voice, “Get...Him...Out...Of...MY...SIGHT!”  
Then someone reached a gargantuan hand from behind and grabbed Celt by his shoulders.  
Celt wiggled and strained, but he was no more than a toy in the huge shadowy hand.  
“What are you doing? Put me down!” he shouted.  
“We’re putting you in your place!” A familiar voice answered.  
Celt couldn’t see because someone had pulled a bag over his head.  
When it came off, Celt realized he was being lifted by the arms by several men in Enforcer robes, all marching up a gray path under a dismal cloudy sky. But as Celt dared to look at one of these people, he realized with shock that their face was that of a conquistador, black wiry hair atop a bloated, bearded face.  
One Enforcer in the lead seemed to be inlaid with medals and ribbons like the Seers. But Celt he had no time to think before ropes were thrown around his wrists, tied so sharply that the fibers irritated his skin. Another conquistador promptly tied a cloth over his mouth.  
Then they lashed his wrists to a wooden, cross-like structure, weighing his legs with cannonballs.  
As he struggled against what felt like a giant cross, Celt finally noticed that the landscape around him wasn’t anything he recognized. Tall concrete buildings towered in the distance, as high as trees, some even higher. Distant aircraft roared by as thunder and lightning crackled overhead.  
Celt felt his whole body go cold from fear and confusion over what was happening, while his head ached with ever-increasing pain.  
Then he saw the head Enforcer – which he recognized as Governor Pizarro, watching Celt struggle with a twisted smirk of glee. Then, he raised his sword and shouted, “Weapons ready, men! Let us make an example of this heathen scum!”  
And simultaneously, every other Conquistador-Enforcer raised their weapons, the bulky curved kind he saw the Seers’ guards carrying.  
“On my mark, Ready...!” Pizarro called. “Aim...”  
Celt couldn’t scream, his head felt ready to explode.  
“FIRE!” screeched Pizarro.  
And bolts of blue light spewed from the dozen rifles, filling Celt’s vision as everything seemed to dissolve around him. But then the light faded as Celt opened his eyes to the soft emerald glow of Dorad’s optics.  
“Celt, are you all right?” he asked.  
It took a moment for Celt to stop panting from the shock, for his heart to slow down.  
“B...bad dream. I had a bad dream,” Celt stammered.  
“It’s all right, I’m here for you,” Dorad smiled as he stroked Celt’s back.  
Celt Kardiae couldn’t be happier to be near someone so precious in times of stress, so he hugged him back.  
Celt began to cry into Dorad’s shoulder, “Oh god, what did your doctor put in that medicine he gave me?”  
“Shhh,” Dorad insisted. “It was just a dream, you’re safe now. Jack said he’s trying to help heal your brain, you just take it easy. If it gets worse, I’ll talk to him again.”  
“Th...thanks, Dorad,” wheezed Celt as his tears faded.  
They embraced each other for what felt like hours, Celt feeling the strange contrast between Dorad’s warm cheek and his slightly cold orichalcum mask.  
But Celt liked it, the uniqueness of it. It proved among other things that he was still in love with a figure unlike anyone in the world. And that helped him sleep throughout the rest of the night.


	10. Mystery of the Pyramids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tao's team ventures forth into the Pyramids of Egypt, and developments take root across space.

The trip across the Giza desert was long, hot, and almost unbearable without water and a re-done meal of veal and bread made by Mendoza and Isabella.  
Tao was puzzled that they were heading to a trail site so fast, if that’s what Nadakh implied it was. He figured that this culture was so old it was as dead as Mu, leaving little to no people left alive who could tell the tale. Just artifacts and myths.  
They stopped at the base of an enormous sand-built statue, a lion with the head of a man in a strange headpiece.  
“What is that?” asked Mendoza as he pointed to its face.  
“That’s the Sphinx, guardian of the ancient pharaoh Khafre,” Nadakh smiled.  
Tao remembered the huge lion owned by Princess Rana’Ori, and he remarked, “Wow, a lion with a human head, huh?”  
Isabella scoffed, “Something tells me some religious nut’s bound to come by and vandalize this statue one day.”  
“Who would do such a thing?” Mendoza laughed with mock surprise.  
“Pizarro, probably.” Gomez scoffed. “I don’t care much for ancient sites either, but aesthetically, I have to admit: This sphinx is quite a pristine structure.”  
“And now to the subject at hand,” Nadakh interrupted as she unveiled the orichalcum tablet, its surface muted by the shade.  
“Yes?” asked Tao, surprised when she handed it to him.  
Gomez finally revealed, “We’ve known for a while that one of these pyramids holds a clue to the next City of Gold, but we could never tell which one. Given your...expertise with the language of Mu, maybe you could read enough of this to tell us where this clue lies?”  
The shock hit Tao like lightning, and he argued, “I thought you said this tablet is encrypted with another language!”  
“It is,” Nadakh nodded. “But surely some of it is still readable?”  
Suddenly Tao remembered those Mayan codices that revealed some clues on their own, but the full message had to be revealed using water.  
Tao glanced up at Isabella, noticing she and Mendoza had one hand on their weapons. Pedro and Sancho were cowering in fear under a shady overhang from the Sphinx’s left paw. Frightened by the sphinx itself, Kokapetl took shelter in Tao’s shirt.  
Tao wanted to resist at first, but considering they’d come this far and were potentially close to what Ambrosius’ last clue was, Tao caved and asked, “All right, let me see the tablet.”  
Nadakh handed it over and smiled, waiting for Tao’s answer.  
The boy examined the etched text, trying to make out the Mu glyphs from the unrecognizable symbols within.  
Slowly, the words came to him, “The path to the tree of life...will show itself where the sand meets the sun.”  
“That’s it?” Gomez asked after waiting for a few seconds.  
“All I can read at the moment,” Tao shrugged.  
The adults were as perplexed as Gomez, but Nadakh seemed to smile.  
“I think I know what he means,” she chuckled.  
“Yes?” Gomez asked, intrigued.  
“Look up,” she pointed to the sky, “See the way each pyramid is at different heights?”  
Tao and the others stepped back and followed her gaze.  
“Yes,” Mendoza remarked, “That one on the right looks the tallest.”  
“Of course!” Tao realized, “Whoever built these pyramids must have known something from Mu or Atlantis to design it, and whoever built the tallest kept something important in there, because of its position to the sun!”  
He pointed to the one Mendoza had targeted.  
Gomez almost scoffed, but didn’t show his disbelief.  
“Well,” he said instead, “Let’s find out, shall we?”  
And the group set off Northward, toward the Great Pyramid of Giza itself.

\-----

By now, Celt was already into his third day of cleaning, and he already hated the job, having already worked Hangar 1 in his first two shifts.  
Half the time he mopped the floor and walls clean of grime, he kept thinking about his cookie, Dorad Elo, the hardened Inca cyborg that everyone seemed to praise, but not Celt himself. He could see how his fellow crewmen looked at him like he was a curious animal and speaking in a language so foreign, he almost assumed they were mocking him.  
If Dorad were here, things would be better. But even though he hadn’t gone Earthside yet, Celt still had to stay on the job before they could meet.  
Frustrated and saddened by this confusing situation, Celt ignored the staring eyes of the other men, and channeled his anger into his work, thinking it’d exert more effort as he cleaned the hangar.

\-----

The trip took more hours and swigs of water, but it passed quickly enough. The sun was approaching the west, in late afternoon, the Solaris II only a glint on the distant Nile.  
Soon, set deep into the stonework, the group discovered an open doorway built into the massive pyramid. Tao reached into his bindle, and pulled out one of his many compact lanterns, surprising Gomez as he held it out. Nadakh was busying herself with a wooden stick with a particularly combustible tip.  
“You two, stand guard out here!” Mendoza ordered Pedro and Sancho, whom sheepishly complied.  
Then the group began their entry.  
Lantern and torch alight, Tao stuck close to Mendoza as he took point, never taking one eye off Gomez.  
The hallway was relatively simple to follow, but it branched at certain points. Tao picked the ramp leading upward, as the clue hinted that the pyramid’s rise from the sand made sense to meet with the sun at its top.  
Gomez wasn’t particularly thrilled with this place, as there was little of value in sight - and even if there had been, he suspected, grave robbers would have already looted the place long ago. The only thing that mattered was finding out the full message on that tablet.  
As the group ascended a long, high-vaulted stairway, Tao looked up at a wall full of murals, and he thought, “Well, guess our friend’s already been here, too,” examining a huge, heat-fused crack along the wall.  
“I don’t like this place,” warned Isabella as she scanned the area with her gun. “It feels too much like...Akkad.”  
“I’ll watch out for you, don’t worry,” Mendoza assured her with a pat on the back.  
Isabella tried to hide her embarrassment at hearing Mendoza caring for her this much.  
Suddenly, as he cleared the ramp, Mendoza stepped on a stone tile, and the group heard a brief grinding noise, but nothing else.  
“What was that?” asked Gomez.  
“Stay back, it could be a trap!” warned Nadakh. “Places like this have all sorts of mechanisms to deter grave robbers.”  
“We know too well what that’s like,” Tao snarked. Then the boy held his lamp closer to the wall, and he sighted two narrow slots, one across from the other.  
“Huh,” Tao quietly said to Mendoza, “Guess...Dorad disabled this for us.”  
“Wonder what it used to be?” asked Mendoza.  
“Whatever it was, probably nothing good,” huffed Isabella.  
“What’s happening up there?” Gomez interrupted.  
“Nothing; let’s keep going,” Mendoza jumped back to the point.  
The short upper hallway dead-ended in a featureless room of stone blocks, every surface blank and featureless, the only distinct feature being a crude stone coffin. Mendoza took point as he approached it, but there was neither a lid nor the corpse inside.  
“Something’s wrong,” he remarked. “This place isn’t like any of the...areas we’ve been to before,” stopping himself to ensure Gomez didn’t catch on.  
“We'll wait here, if you don’t mind,” Gomez smirked, confidently waiting at the top of the stairway.  
“Wait, shouldn’t there be a mural or a clue of some kind in this place?” asked Tao.  
“Nadakh said there’d be a way to translate the tablet here, unless...” but Mendoza trailed off, as Tao’s face tightened with frustration.  
“They tricked us!” snarled Tao, as he threw the tablet to the floor. “They led us to a dead end with a false lead!”  
Gomez and Nadakh had to keep from laughing at how pathetic those people looked with no clues to guide them. Gomez wanted to take this matter into his own hands, but Nadakh insisted they stay put and watch.  
“Wait,” Mendoza interrupted, holding out his hands. “If it’s a dead end, then why would...um, El Dorado have come this way before us?”  
“Who knows?” scoffed Tao, throwing up his arms, “That man’s nice, but darn if he isn’t mysterious!”  
“Any more mysterious than the Cities of Gold?” laughed Isabella.  
“‘El Dorado’?” Gomez whispered to Nadakh. “Someone else was here?”  
“Shhh! Like I said, just wait and see,” Nadakh advised, her and Gomez staying out of sight below the top of the stairway.  
“A construction of Mu this isn’t,” Tao sighed. Then he looked at the tablet, picked it up, and suggested, “Wait, I’ve got an idea!”

\-----

Tao then finally noticed a very prominent ray of light emerging from a high air shaft. Standing on the lip of the ramp, Tao thought, “Just like Esteban would’ve done.”  
Then he raised the orichalcum tablet as high as he could, and the light bounced straight off its back. He reflected it into the burial chamber, but the light didn’t seem to reveal anything.  
Then Tao asked Mendoza to hold the tablet face-up instead, and lo and behold, as he angled it to the back wall, the tablet seemed to glow for a moment, then the sunlight revealed a message hidden within featureless stone blocks.  
“That’s it!” Tao gasped, “Hold it just like that, Mendoza!”  
And to Tao’s amazement, the indecipherable markings on the tablet turned out to reflect onto the wall in the right way up, as Atlantean symbols. Though Tao’s knowledge of this was weaker than Muan, he was able to decode, “Our Elders...entrusted a great secret to...to the one who built this pyramid. His...face. no, visage?" Tao paused, befuddled over this bit. Then he found it and exclaimed, "Ah! His likeness shall hold this key!” The image below this message seemed to depict a top-down view of this pyramid, the sun forming a triangular shadow behind it that seemed to point to a burial ground filled with block-like tombs. Where the shadow’s tip aligned with a larger structure at the complex’s far end, an inset to the right showed a strangely robed man offering a familiar golden tablet to another man.  
“Mendoza, I think we found our clue!” yipped Tao.  
Mendoza asked as he handed back the tablet, “And what’s that?”  
Tao showed him his sketch of the invisible picture, and he explained, “If this mural is right, whoever built this pyramid was buried behind it, and his statue should be holding this tablet! Not just that, but by these markings, whoever made this tablet came from Atlantis!”  
“That’s a first, isn’t it?” laughed Mendoza.  
Isabella heard a faint scratching noise echoing from the stairway, but she kept her eyes on the others.  
Mendoza looked up, seeing the sun ray had moved slightly. “If that’s the case, we’d better hurry out there before the sun sets.”  
“Wait,” Isabella interrupted. “Something’s not right.”  
Mendoza watched her load her gun, and the group backed out slowly.  
Isabella took point as she waved her gun around the chamber. The area was strangely dead quiet, if rather dusty.  
“Where’s Gomez? Or Nadakh?” Tao gasped.  
“I don’t like this,” grumbled Mendoza.

\-----

It so happened that the scratching sound came from a quill Nadakh used to copy the diagram onto a scroll.  
The two of them had already sprinted down to the base of the ramp, prepared to ascend the pyramid’s exit ramp.  
“There!” Sneered Nadakh as she showed him the diagram.  
Gomez smiled, “This is even easier than we thought! Now all that remains is to get the key from those people!”  
“Get behind me, Gomez,” Nadakh advised. “I have...a secret weapon up my sleeve. There’s a switch to your right. Keep your hand on it and pull it on my mark.”  
“Understood, my friend,” nodded Gomez, finding the switch near the floor.  
Gomez positioned himself at the base of the exit ramp, while Nadakh watched the opposite corridor, waiting for Mendoza’s team to come down.  
“There you are!” exclaimed Mendoza.  
“Where were you?” asked Isabella, her gun still drawn.  
“Waiting for you,” sneered Gomez. “Apparently this pyramid isn’t as useful as we thought. But that still is!” he pointed to the tablet still in Tao’s arms.  
“Now, would you kindly hand it over?” asked Nadakh, waving her hand in a beckoning gesture, “Now that we know what its true purpose is?”  
But Tao creased his brow and scoffed, “I don’t think so, we found the clue, and you don’t know what it even means!”  
“Ah, why am I asking?” laughed Nadakh.  
She then held both hands near her temples, breathed deeply, and then the tablet shot right out of Tao’s arms and into Nadakh’s clutches, as if drawn in on an invisible current.  
“What the?!” Tao gasped. Mendoza and Isabella too were shocked.  
Then Nadakh gave her signal, Gomez smirked as he pulled the switch, and a stone door began to slowly drop from above.  
Seeing that the group was too taken aback to argue, he monologued as it slid down, “Well, Tao, Mendoza, thank you all for your cooperation. It was a pleasure to do business with you, but I’m afraid our arrangement ends here. Enjoy being another disciple of Khufu!”  
Isabella decided now was a good time to shoot, and she fired at Nadakh’s left leg just as the two crooks turned around and ran off. She heard her shriek in pain as the bullet made contact, but that only made her and Gomez run away faster.  
Abruptly, just when they thought the stone slab would move slow enough for the group to jump through, they heard a loud “Clunk”, and it dropped to the ground like a lead weight in seconds, sealing everyone inside.  
Tao sputtered with confusion, “What the...What just happened? How did she--?”  
“No time!” interrupted Mendoza. “There must be another way out of here!”  
And the team hastily searched the other tunnels in search of an alternate route.

\-----

Despite the Condor’s safe landing, it took some time for Esteban and his friends to get acquainted with the villagers who saw them land.  
At first, many believed that the Condor was a sign of the Thunderbird they hoped would bring rain, reinforced by the oncoming clouds trailing behind.  
Then after surrendering to a pair of guards, the travelling trio soon gained an audience with the village chief.  
When Esteban’s team reached the main hut, they gazed upon a tall, muscular man with dark hair shaved into a broad, wide mohawk crested with feathers. His torso was bare, only his legs were covered, draped in an ornately patterned kilt.  
The man eyed them up and down, puzzled by their clothing, then spoke, “Are you the ones that the Thunderbird brought to our village?”  
“Uh...” Esteban tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come.  
Athanaos cleared his throat and spoke for his son, “Yes! Yes, we were brought here by the good deity!”  
Zia found her chance and backed him up, “They...sent us in search of a great treasure, and we thought...you might know something about it that could help us?"  
The chief gave the group another long glance, then finally smiled, "Well, if that is the case, I suppose I can trust you. I am Chief Akule. What are your names?"  
And each member gave their names as Esteban, Zia, and Athanaos.  
Finally, Chief Akule stood up, bowed, and declared as he walked closer to his visitors, "Welcome to our village, travelers! Forgive us this rude misunderstanding!"  
Esteban found a chance to speak, and replied, "We are...used to it, your Highness."  
Chief Akule nodded, then gestured to the door of his hut, "Come, let me show you the ways of our Caddo tribe while the sun is still high!"  
And Esteban's team followed the man's lead out into the village, to show them the wonders within.

\-----

At 1526 hours, a small pair of engineers were gathered around in a nearby electronics lab, assigned to analyze and repair a few orichalcum devices.  
Also in this lab, a tall, lean woman in a purple Astronomers’ outfit stood proud and confident, hands behind her back as she waited for her repair order’s completion.  
“So, Allura,” she asked, “How’s my drone coming along? I stopped by because I have some free time between shifts.”  
“Almost finished, Yuna,” a long-haired female Engineer replied as she soldered the drone’s circuit board, “Just needs some little tweaks here and a data flash.”  
The drone itself appeared little more than an oversized orichalcum dragonfly about a foot long and eight inches in wingspan, its head a smooth round ball with a black monitor for its face, crowned by two sensors and a tiny camera at its top. Two broad, thin golden wings protruded from its abdomen, coated like the Golden Condor with glossy solar panels. The thing looked like a dissected lab animal with its back panel open and its tail connected to Allura’s work computer.  
Then a man stood up from his own diagnostics on a broken-down cargo droid, and shyly greeted the visitor, “Oh! Greetings, Yuna! Nice to see you, we don’t see Astronomers around here much.”  
“Is that right?” chuckled Yuna. “I suppose being social isn’t much of a priority on this vessel.”  
Gravin just shrugged, “I wouldn’t know.”  
Then Allura glanced up from her work, looked at the other engineer, and pointed out the lab’s viewport, “Gravin, have you met our new colleague? Kardiae, they call him.”  
The man looked out the same window, observing Celt sweeping down below, then he agreed, “Yes, I did, Allura. He’s definitely not the kind of people who come out of sleep these days.”  
“Don’t you think it’s unfair that he can’t talk to us? Kardiae looks...lonely over there,” Allura gestured to Celt’s position, showing him mopping the hangar floor below.  
Gravin saw Celt’s frustration from the way he aggressively moved his mop, then said, “I agree, Allura. Only His Loftiness would make a man that upset.”  
“Oh, don’t tell me,” scoffed Yuna as she stepped closer for a better look.  
Yuna gave Celt a long glance also, then asked, “Where did you say he was from?”  
Allura replied, “They say the Enforcers’ best agent brought him.  
Allura looked at Yuna, then Gravin, then the drone and the computer near it.  
Then Gravin changed the subject, pointed to the drone, and asked, “Didn’t Jarrin say that the Astronomers need this drone for the next survey run?”  
But Allura said something to Yuna that Gravin couldn’t hear, to which Yuna replied, “Oh, I think they’ll be fine with one less drone.”  
Allura nodded, “Us Engineers need to look after each other, just like everyone on this ship!” She fluttered her eyes and asked, “What do you recommend this drone should be used for?  
“I think it will do nicely as a translator,” Yuna agreed, pointing out the window, “That poor man looks like he needs one, badly.”  
“Then a translator it shall be!” laughed Allura as she turned to a nearby computer.  
Gravin shrugged again, said his farewells, and walked down the stairway to the hangar floor, knowing the end of his shift was near.  
Meanwhile, Yuna helped Allura load holographic data shapes into the drone, ranging from directional guidance and a basic non-helper AI, to voice recognition and translation algorithms. When the data was loaded and compiled, Allura powered down the drone to finish her repairs.  
Yuna smiled as Allura continued soldering the circuit board, remarking, “I think I’d fancy a meeting with this Kardiae fellow. Let me know when you’re done with that drone, and I’ll get it straight to him!”  
“Will do,” smiled Allura as she performed the last necessary tweaks.

\-----

Mendoza’s team found themselves almost lost when trying to find their way out of the Great pyramid of Khufu.  
The tunnels twisted and turned underground, often disorienting the group, especially Tao with his diminishing supply of lanterns.  
But as luck would have it, soon they discovered a crudely dug tunnel breaching one of the passage walls.  
“Finally!” exclaimed Tao, “That looks like a way out! I can see light at the end!”  
“Looks like some grave robbers dug this out long ago,” speculated Mendoza.  
“Then let me go first, just to be safe,” commanded Isabella.  
Tao obligingly stood aside, and Isabella climbed through, dust being kicked in by her footsteps. As he followed, Mendoza had to stop himself from complimenting Isabella on how she looked from behind.  
Tao was just happy to finally get out of this tomb, though he still worried what Gomez and Nadakh were up to now that they’d copied his clue.  
Outside, it turned out that Pedro and Sancho had broken from their posts to chase after Gomez and his partner.  
After failing to tell the devious duo to stop, Pedro told Sancho, “This will prove to Mendoza how useful we really are!”  
“Especially af-af-after that problem in the kitchen!” Sancho agreed.  
As he raced parallel with the pyramid’s north side, Gomez was rather disappointed by the sheer length he had to circle in order to reach its far side, but Nadakh didn’t stop, the orichalcum tablet still gleaming in her arms.  
“Who is this woman?” Gomez thought to himself. “Where did I even find her?” But then he shook his head and smiled, “Well, at least she knows what she’s doing.”  
When Mendoza’s team climbed their way out of the grave-robbers’ tunnel, Gomez and his partner were already several yards away. Too occupied with chasing the villain, Pedro and Sancho bowled straight into Mendoza’s group, sending everyone tumbling to the sand.  
“Ouch!” yelped Tao, having been accidentally struck in the torso by Pedro’s right arm.  
Kokapetl flew out of his tunic squawking "Ouch! That hurt! Ouch! That hurt!"  
“Oh!” he gasped. “Sorry, Tao! I didn’t see you there!”  
“Whe-whe-where were you, Mendoza?” asked Sancho.  
“We found some kind of clue in the pyramid,” reported Mendoza, “but Gomez tried to lock us inside!”  
“Luckily, we found another way out,” gloated Tao.  
“But we’d better not waste time,” grunted Isabella as she pointed west, “Gomez’...strange friend stole the tablet.”  
“Then we’ve not a moment to lose!” nodded Mendoza as she shook sand from his cape.  
“Right,” added Tao. “For all we know, he could already be on his way to the next City of Gold!”  
That statement convinced Pedro and Sancho to pick up the pace.  
It wasn’t long at all until Nadakh and Gomez reached the pyramid’s shadow, though the dunes it crossed made it difficult to correlate with the copied diagram.  
“If this diagram is correct,” reported Nadakh, the site should be about...thirty paces due west.”  
“Easier said than done,” Gomez remarked. “Look at all those structures up ahead!”  
Nadakh looked up to see the myriad of stone tombs that lined the area ahead, but she just laughed, “All the more reason to keep moving, my friend!”  
But Gomez argued, “You should sit down, you just got shot in the leg.”  
“Not until we reach what we came for, Gomez!” countered Nadakh, “After all, you want to find this city of gold just as much as they do, right?”  
But Gomez furrowed his brow and asserted, “That is true, but until I remove that bullet, your wound will only get worse. That...special power of yours will only get you us far!”  
Suddenly, Nadakh understood he was right, and reluctantly sat down, at which point Gomez broke out a crude pair of pincers and said, “Hold still, please.”  
Isabella noticed this event and told her team to stop, as the situation gave her a bright idea.  
Crouching low and attempting to make as little noise as possible, Isabella observed how Gomez was so focused on Nadakh’s legs with his operation, that Nadakh had loosened her grip on the tablet, where it quietly thudded to the sand.  
Remembering her practice in Patiala and her childhood, Isabella snuck up behind the strange woman, carefully gripped the object with both hands, and pulled it back, trying not to flinch at the faint skidding noise it made on the sand.  
By the time the bullet was out, Isabella had run off with her prize, and her allies were already en route to the shadow’s tip.

\-----

They crossed a narrow slope of sand and quickly found themselves in the funerary site from the diagram. All around them stood low stone buildings as neatly designed as the pyramids themselves.  
The path ahead threaded smoothly between each one, ending at a larger, slightly more ornate structure.  
"That must be it!" cheered Tao.  
Mendoza complimented Isabella, “Nice idea of stealing back that tablet, señorita!”  
“Yes, but let’s not pat ourselves on the back yet, Mendoza,” warned Isabella, and she pointed to the distant figures already running toward this area.  
“Did you see what Nadakh did with that tablet?” Tao asked as they approached the towering building at the shadow’s tip.  
“Yes, I did,” Mendoza admitted. “It...reminded me of something.”  
Isabella remembered a point back in Patiala, back when she still worked for Ambrosius.  
“Mendoza, did you say Zia can move things with her mind?” she asked him.  
“Yes,” nodded Mendoza. “You don’t think...?”  
But Isabella passed the tablet over to Mendoza and advised, “If that Nadakh can do what I think she just did, we’d better keep moving.”  
“Right,” nodded Mendoza.  
“Hopefully that statue isn’t much farther!” whined Pedro.  
“I...I-ACHOO!” Sancho paused to sneeze, “I hate crossing d-d-deserts!”  
“Calm down, Sancho,” countered Mendoza. “We’re almost there!”  
It took exactly thirteen more minutes of walking before they arrived at the tip of the shadow, which by now had veered off from the building ahead, but the team figured this had to be the place because of the inscriptions in the pyramid. The structure seemed to rise from the sand itself, taller than the rest but shrouded by dunes of sand that seemed to counteract its height.  
They clambered into a thick open doorway, right as Gomez and Nadakh caught up.  
“Great, we made it!” Tao stated. “Now where is that architect’s statue?”  
They traveled down a dim corridor of stone blocks, alcoves set into the walls depicting statues, some of them eroded or smashed by other grave robbers. But at the end, where the corridor opened up, they found the architect’s statue, for Tao recognized its face and shape from the mural. On a stone plinth sat a smooth, bare man with smooth short hair, and both hands over his thighs. Not quite open, but the position told Tao what to do as he looked at the orichalcum tablet one more time, the symbols now strangely changed to Atlantean glyphs similar to the mural.  
If they could read hieroglyphs, they’d know this man’s cartouche spelled “Hemiunu”.  
Mendoza flinched when he heard footsteps approaching from behind.


	11. Performance Review

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our heroes make a new discovery, and a man on the Colombea learns that actions have consequences.

“Well, well,” Gomez interrupted. “Seems like someone got a head-start on us!”

Mendoza turned around, drew his sword, and taunted, “You should have checked to see if that trap worked! Clearly, we weren’t the first to invade that pyramid, were we?”

Gomez cringed slightly, feeling irritated at how long this situation had gone. He’d give anything to be back in Cairo and out of this sweltering heat and dust. But he cleared his throat, “Apparently not. But I’ve no time for games, Mendoza! Where is that tablet?”

“There!” Nadakh pointed towards Tao who happened to be placing it in the statue’s hands.

Pedro decided to grab a fallen torch from the wall and brandish it as a weapon, while Sancho huddled near Tao to protect him. Isabella had her flintlock loaded and pointed at Gomez’ head.

“What is that boy doing?” Gomez muttered.

Then Nadakh glanced at Gomez and smiled, “Ah, it seems Tao has done the hard work for us once again! It wouldn’t have mattered if we were the first to be here or not, the effect is all the same!”

And as Mendoza and the child had almost come to expect by now, several stone blocks in the floor began to sink, gravity drawing trails of sand through deepening gaps in the stones.

Gomez decided to step forward and politely tell Mendoza, “Well then, if that pyramid held nothing, there must be some sort of treasure beyond those stairs.”

Mendoza scoffed, "If our adventures have taught us anything, I highly doubt there's anything down there you can take."

Everyone stared at the newly formed spiral stairway of blocks, and Gomez just crossed his arms and smirked, “And that's why I'd prefer to wait here. Whatever you find down there, bring it to me, and then our arrangement will be over.”

"If we refuse?" Isabella demanded as she reached for her weapons.

But Nadakh tapped into her powers and drew Mendoza's rapier. Isabella's gun, sword, and whip into her grasp, gloating, "I think you already know the answer to that question!"

Pedro ran screaming toward Nadakh with the unlit torch held over his head like a club, but as soon as he could pummel her in the head with it, Nadakh raised one hand and sent him flying into a wall with her will alone. Sancho barely had time to catch him before the two men slammed back-first into that same wall, each now dazed and full of pain.

"Hey, how did you do that?!" Tao demanded as he tried to process what just happened.

"We all have our secrets, boy," Nadakh answered, now pointing the gun at the group. “Now, will you do as Gomez says, or do I have to...take more drastic measures?”

Mendoza tried not to show his surprise at faint glowing tattoos on the woman's wrists.

"Well, go on, Mendoza," Gomez interrupted. "I'd rather not prolong our collaboration any more than necessary."

Realizing now that the group was effectively disarmed, Mendoza told Isabella, “You can stay up here, señorita,” He pauses, then adds, “Make sure those two don’t get themselves hurt.”

“Works for me,” shrugged Isabella. The two men flinched slightly at Mendoza’s suggestion as she walked toward Pedro and Sancho.

On a whim, Isabella took Pedro’s fallen torch, and told Gomez, “If you want Mendoza to go down there, _señor_ Gomez, would you be so kind as to light this for him?”

“Anything for a business deal, my lady,” Gomez shrugged as he pulled out a flint from his coat pocket.

As Isabella shuffled closer to the man, she noticed the small pile of weapons Nadakh had stolen from their group. Nadakh made the fatal mistake of looking at Gomez and not Isabella, for this presented an opportunity for Isabella to covertly steal her whip back just as Gomez managed to light the torch.

“Good luck, Mendoza,” Smiled Isabella as she handed the torch to him.

Mendoza noted a mischievous look in her eyes, but said nothing.

\-----

Then Tao took the lead as he and Mendoza descended the ancient stairs, wondering if Dorad Elo had been here too. He kept his compact lamp held high as they rounded a tight U-turn in the stairway.

“If what we saw in the pyramid was just a decoy, what could this architect have hidden here?” Mendoza speculated.

“Maybe they didn’t even know what it was?” Tao suggested. “He was probably just tasked to keep this secret safe.”

The pair then found the end of the stairway and entered a cramped, dug-out tunnel that went on for several meters, before ending in a dimly lit stone chamber some distance from Hemiunu’s crypt. As Tao waved his lantern back and forth to help Mendoza get his bearings, the two of them examined what secrets this place had to hold.

The first thing they saw was an enormous, seven-sided structure of orichalcum, each face etched with a single symbol. Some of them were Muan, others Atlantean.

“Yes, inscriptions! This is more like it!” Tao gloated.

Then Mendoza made his usual knowing smile and asked, “Well Tao, do you know what they spell?”

Tao almost answered, but stopped when he realized that the hepta-pyramid was segmented into five rings, and he could rotate them to reveal other characters on each side.

“I...don’t know yet,” Tao finally admitted. Then he looked up at the chamber and advised, “Let’s keep looking, there must be another clue in here!”

And, though he was rather exhausted from all this trekking, Mendoza stuck close to Tao as they circled the huge orichalcum structure. The room didn’t have much to it other than various decorations on each wall.

The chamber wasn’t that large, with the pyramid filling most of its space. But then, almost as predicted, Tao and Mendoza discovered another mural painted onto the far wall.

“Aha!” shouted Tao. “Another mural!”

They examined an image that glinted gold in the light. At its top stood Princess Rana’Ori surrounded by a sun, flanked on both sides by the image of her Double Medallion.

Below this, surrounded by clouds, were crudely drawn figures emerging from triangular openings at either end. The people seemed to gather around a strange blue item in the center.

“This part looks familiar,” Mendoza noted as he pointed to it.

“Yes,” nodded Tao. “I thought this looked like the Pyramid of Mu, but the shape is different.”

“Hmm,” paused Mendoza. “I wonder why that is?”

Then Tao finally saw lines of symbols within the upper two segments of the mural. These ones appeared to be mostly Muan, but interspersed here and there with Atlantean signs.

“Here it is!” laughed Tao. “Let’s see now...‘ **A** nyone who can **L** ook beyond the **E** rrors of the **P** ast, may build a **H** ome anew.”

Tao found himself irked by yet another cryptic riddle, particularly with how it didn’t seem to have anything to do with this mural of Rana’Ori, or the weird blue totem on its pedestal.

But then, as Tao leaned closer, he suddenly realized that the Atlantean symbols were deliberately etched between the Muan characters.

When he isolated them, enunciating them one by one, it turned out that the Atlantean signs sounded out the word “ **ALEPH** ”.

“Aleph?” Mendoza asked. “What does that mean?”

“I don’t know, but it’s five symbols,” Tao answered. “Maybe it’ll work on the pyramid?”

And they circled around to the front of the golden structure.

Carefully holding his burning torch in right hand, Mendoza used his left hand to help Tao rotate the heavy orichalcum disks of the pyramid.

Sure enough, after a number of rotations, the five Atlantean characters phonetically spelled “Ah-l-Eh-Pf” and the pyramid glowed with that familiar bright yellow light. They watched as it retracted from the top down, each segment sliding inward like a spyglass.

Tao and Mendoza’s awe only escalated further when they saw what the golden structure was hiding. It was a blue metallic cylinder, its top narrower than the base, etched with glowing blue lines not unlike the Pyramid of Mu, the word “ALEPH” etched into its base in Muan and Atlantean in a repeating pattern.

Tao stole a glance at the mural again, and realized this was what it was depicting.

Tao was so shocked at this revelation he could barely speak. When he did, he stammered, “M...Mendoza, I think I know what this is!”

“Yes, Tao?” asked Mendoza, just as mystified.

“Esteban said all the Cities of Gold link together through glowing blue towers,” Tao added. “This looks like a small version of that!”

“Hmm,” Mendoza crossed his arms in thought. “Maybe this can lead us to the next City, then?”

“Maybe, but if that mural is right,” Tao pointed to the wall again, “We’ll need to find that pedestal to put it on.”

“Well,” smiled Mendoza, “At least we have a lead, don’t we?”

Tao nodded, but as he prepared to pick up the Aleph, he felt something pop as it detached from the structure. Seconds later, as Tao placed the Aleph on the floor, two beams of blue light sprouted from the empty platter, passing over Tao and Mendoza like a wave. Then the light centralized as a single blue disc. Tao and Mendoza’s faces briefly flared against a green background, followed by a simple image of a cave, surrounded by a bright red ring that shrank with every second.

“What just happened?” Mendoza asked.

“I think...” Tao gasped, “I think this device recognized us, and...it’s telling us to get out of here before this place caves in!”

Tao noticed the ceiling getting lower and lower as the red ring shrank, grinding loudly against the stone walls.

Mendoza gulped, grabbed up his faintly glowing torch, and suggested, “Well, let’s not wait around for that to happen!”

And Tao and Mendoza beat a hasty retreat from the chamber.

It was a race against time for the pair to retrace their steps back to the tunnel, Tao having to hold the Aleph under his left arm, while Mendoza had to hold both sources of light. They were in for a greater shock when the stairs they used to get down here were also retracting, so Tao and Mendoza put in all the strength they had to get there in time.

Just as they did, a loud crunching sound echoed up the tunnel, sand leaking in as it finally caved in while the last stair returned to its original position. No one would know anything was down there ever again.

\-----

Back aboard the _Colombea_ at 2045 hours, Celt sat alone on the monorail as it crossed from one side of the gleaming city to the other. As he was finishing his shift, Carvana had given him a box with his last name on it, saying it was a gift from his peers, though Celt dared not open it until he got home.

When he did get there, Dorad was already asleep in bed. Groggy, Celt sat at a small desk and placed the box on it. At first, he wanted to open it, but Celt realized sleep wouldn’t wait, so he set the box aside, changed clothes, and laid down with his partner, hoping his dreams would be merciful.

\-----

With the lower vault now destroyed, Gomez had spent some time analyzing the Aleph with Nadakh, but they couldn’t find a way to make it work, nor could those who discovered it.

“Interesting design, I’ll say,” Gomez remarked.

“Do you know what it does?” Nadakh asked, still holding back the team’s stolen weapons.

“No,” Tao shook his head. He wisely decided not to mention the security device he saw.

“So, Mendoza,” Gomez finally gloated, “I see you’re one who can pull himself out of the most lethal dangers. I must have misjudged you when last we met back in the New World.”

“Enough talk, Gomez,” grumbled Mendoza. “A deal is a deal. Now give us back our weapons and tell Tao what he wants to know!”

But Gomez was all too interested with his new prize, so much that he didn’t even see Sancho eyeing the orichalcum tablet still on the altar. Mendoza just nodded.

Isabella gave Mendoza a sly look, as if she were preparing for something.

Tao asked Gomez’ partner. “Na...Nada...”

“Nadakh,” she specified.

“You heard Mendoza!” Tao huffed. “You promised you’d tell me where my father was, and where his jar was made!”

Gomez then scooped up the Aleph into his arms, looking like a tall vase in his grasp, even taller than the Pyramid of Mu.

He looked at Nadakh, she looked at him, then they nodded.

“Very well, Tao. Only this,” Nadakh added, “The potter of golden clay once lived in Morocco.”

As Tao scrambled to write that in his notebook, Gomez smiled and said, “Well, I appreciate your effort to find my treasure, but now I can safely say our exchange is truly at an end. Nadakh?”

She nodded.

But just before the woman could turn towards the door, Isabella made her move.

There was a sharp crack that echoed off the stone walls, and Isabella ensnared Nadakh’s torso in her whip, dragging her to the floor in a move so hard that she hit her head against the stonework, releasing her psychic grip on the team’s weapons.

Sancho threw the tablet across the room to Pedro, who took the initiative to club Gomez over the head with it, sending him to the floor.

“Get it! Get that blue thing!” commanded Mendoza.

And Pedro bent down and grabbed the Aleph off the floor, startled by its weight.

Mendoza made quick work of finding Isabella’s gun and passing it to her, while Tao helped bring back the Spaniards’ swords.

“We have to get back to the Solaris!” Tao commanded. “Before they do!”

The group circled around so that they stood behind Gomez and Nadakh, facing the door. But the knockout was short-lived as those two people slowly rose to their feet.

“What are you doing?” Gomez ordered. “We had a deal!”

But as she advanced toward the door, Isabella had her gun trained on Nadakh, this time aimed at the chest.

“Try that magic again, and I shoot you!” she threatened.

Nadakh’s head was hurting too much for her to focus.

Suddenly, presented with a beautiful dose of irony, Mendoza laughed in Gomez’ face and answered, “Yes, we gave our word, but now I’m taking mine back!”

That gave Gomez a startled shock, but Isabella decided to get a head start and run off towards the desert, followed hard on the heels by Mendoza’s team.

“No one backs out on a deal I make!” Gomez snarled as he and Nadakh sprang out of the chamber empty-handed.

Under her breath, Nadakh muttered, “Hypocrite.”

\-----

When Celt awoke, Dorad was already out of bed.

“Oh! You’re up early!” Dorad laughed.

Celt yawned, stretching his arms, then replied, “I am? Huh, slept pretty well that time.”

“It’s about,” Dorad checked his gauntlet just as he slipped it on, “Oh-six-thirty-seven hours. You don’t start work for another two hours!”

Celt rolled his eyes and snarked, “Lucky me.”

“Well, you want to make breakfast, or should I?” Dorad offered.

Suddenly Celt was drawn to the box he left on the desk, but the offer still rang in his mind. So, thinking of a compromise, Celt answered, “You can make it, but I’ll try and do something for you when I get back.”

Dorad smiled, shook Celt's hand and said, “It’s a done deal!”

But when Dorad pulled back, Celt's fingers caught on his glove. It slipped off, and Celt gaped at what was underneath.

Instead of a flesh hand like his right, half of Dorad’s left forearm had been amputated, and replaced with an orichalcum prosthetic hand. It looked more crudely made than Jack’s facial prosthesis, and Celt wondered how much dexterity Dorad could get with that kind of hand.

“I...I suppose I should have told you this sooner,” Dorad sighed as he sat on the bed.

“Let me guess,” Celt tried to humor him, “Our old nemesis chopped that off some time back?”

Dorad shook his head, “Not exactly,” then answered, “You know those places the Seers sent me to repair? Down on Earth?”

“Yes? Ancient temples and what not?” Celt shrugged.

“Let’s just say...Years ago, when I became an Enforcer, I didn’t exactly start out on the right foot,” Dorad awkwardly laughed. “I...got caught in one of those traps on one of my first few missions. The crude kind I suspect were not made by the hands of Mu.” Dorad paused, seeing Celt’s shocked expression. Then Dorad cleared his throat and added, “But...this is why I take my work so seriously! So...the Chosen Ones don’t end up like this!”

“It looks...nice, like a bird’s talon,” Celt admitted.

“Glad you think so,” Dorad smiled as he embraced his lover. Then he stood up and smiled as he slipped his left glove back on, “Well, I’d better our food ready.”

Celt nodded, then focused himself on the mysterious package from his workplace. Feeling ready, Celt tore open the crude paper packaging, lifted the thick lid underneath, and found what looked like a folded orichalcum dragonfly inside.

As he pulled out the device, inspecting its bulbous head, Celt discovered a hidden round button just behind the sensor array and visor that acted as its face. He pushed the button, and the dragonfly stirred to life, unfurled its two solar wings, and hovered about a foot off the tabletop.

Its broad black visor projected a holographic screen, listing off a startup process Celt couldn’t understand. Then the screen went a blank blue, as if waiting for input.

“He...hello?” Celt asked it.

“Beep-boop!” He heard it respond, a high, happy noise.

“Can you...understand me?” Celt asked, curious now.

“Beep!” The drone said, as its screen showed a green diamond.

“Do you...have an owner?” Celt continued, unsure of what else to ask.

This time, the drone made a sad, low “Boop,” as a red “X” appeared.

Suddenly, Dorad looked up from his work at the kitchenette, and turned around, asking, “Who are you talking to?”

Celt turned around and said, “Uh, Carvana gave me this last night, she said it was a gift from the Engineers.”

“Really?” asked Dorad. He gave the dragonfly a glance, eying its design, and smiled, “Well, it’s a cute-looking gift, I’ll say. What is it?”

The screen went black as white Muan text typed itself out, “O.P.I. Omni-Purpose Interpreter drone, Version 5.04b.”

“Wow,” Celt chuckled. “Oh-Pee-Eye, huh? Hmm,” He paused. “I think I’ll call you ‘Oppy’, it flows better.”

The drone twittered with approval, wobbling in midair.

Then, testing his curiosity, Celt asked it, “So Oppy, why did my...peers send you?”

And Oppy rose higher, did a barrel roll, pinged, “Beep! Beep-boop! BWOOOP!” and its holo-screen first showed a Muan letter, then cycled through the same letter in multiple languages. Dorad and Celt’s jaws dropped when they saw this.

“You...can translate text?” Celt guessed.

And the green diamond appeared again.

Then, feeling ambitious, Celt looked into the parcel Oppy was shipped in, and discovered a card underneath. Its glossy front showed a picture of stars around a nebula, while the back contained a message written in neat Muan script.

Celt held the card in front of Oppy, and he asked, “Can you translate this, then? I can’t read this language.”

“I can--” but Dorad trailed off when he watched Oppy’s holo-screen go black again.

A beam of light burst from one of the drone’s lower sensors, scanning the card. Then, processing the text, the message typed itself out in glowing white symbols, the drone cycling through the same message in different languages.

Suddenly, Celt saw Quechua scroll by, and he commanded, “Wait, go back to that.”

And Oppy complied. Both men could now see a very clear message on-screen, reading, “Engineer Kardiae, I heard you’re not happy under His Loftiness’ rule. But I know some parts of the Colombea that would cheer you up on downtime. If you’re interested, contact me at Comm code 9-035-768, and I’ll be happy to show you around.

Best regards,

Astronomer Yuna, First Class.”

Dorad noticed Celt’s dumbfounded expression and laughed, “Well, seems someone else cares for you!”

“Yeah, I guess,” Celt admitted, remembering to stand.

Then Dorad patted him on the shoulder and suggested, “Well, you’d better get ready for work.”

And Celt nodded. As he stood, he giggled as Oppy settled itself on his right shoulder like a bird.

\-----

If walking through the Egyptian desert was tiring, running the other way towards the Nile was twice as bad. Their water supply was low, and they could barely make out the path they’d walked to the pyramids. Gomez and Nadakh too were growing exhausted from the chase.

As they neared the Sphinx, Isabella gained a bright idea, dehydrated though she was. Mendoza helped her climb one of the statue’s paws, and crouched in wait.

Tao offered to help fight back, but Mendoza said that Isabella knows what she’s doing. Tao decided not to comment on that.

Loading her flintlock, Isabella watched Nadakh take the lead over Gomez. And just before the psychic could try and disarm her again, Isabella fired one bullet into Nadakh’s left shoulder, sending her stumbling back. Below, Pedro and Sancho found a myriad of sharp, chunky rocks. Sancho wanted to throw one right away, but Pedro decided to hand those rocks up to Isabella.

Impressing them again, Isabella took one of the rocks, and after missing one shot, her second throw bonked Gomez square in the head, and a third finished off Nadakh, leaving both of them unconscious in the desert sand.

Mendoza grabbed the Aleph, and ordered the group to keep running. Tao could still see the Solaris’ metal sail gleaming above the river.

\-----

Oppy sat quietly on Celt’s shoulder as he rode the monorail back to work, ignoring the people around him.

Though several seats down the aisle, Seer Holkin distanced himself as well, for he saw how several citizens dared not make eye contact with him.

Then Holkin’s orichalcum gauntlet pinged twice, followed by a voice message from no other than Muran’Kel’s automated system.

“Seer Holkin,” she flatly commanded, “The Great Seven have requested your presence for private review. Please report to the Throne Room in Central Tower immediately.”

“Great,” he huffed, well aware of which floor that was on as he stepped off the monorail at the broad Median station.

After Holkin crossed the plaza to the tower, the elevator ride was discomforting as he descended one floor, all but dreading what lay ahead. The huge orichalcum doors hissed open, seeming to beckon him through. His footsteps were quiet on carpet as the lights automatically rose over the throne room. Every wall was covered with tapestries bearing Muan and Atlantean artwork, save for the far wall where the throne sat, suspended off the floor by a wide balcony linked by stairways at either end. Here, seven smaller banners depicted the colored signs of the Cities of Gold, Rana’Ori’s in the very center just above her throne. As Holkin slowly descended the sloping aisle between several rows of empty seats, the 6 nacaals and Princess Rana’Ori made their presence known as their lumino-projected selves flared into existence on the balcony, digital displays showing their names from left to right, orange to magenta: “Tauran”, “Rutil”, “Vadiri”, “Princess Rana’Ori”, “Celura”, “Peruus” and “Seorus”.

They watched him take his place at one of three lecterns at the base of the aisle.

Then, clearing his throat, Holkin asked, “Greetings, my Lords. You...wished to see me?”

“Yes,” the green, long-haired Vadiri began. “Let us begin. Tauran?” she looked at the red male nacaal.

“Thank you, Vadiri,” he nodded, before turning his gaze to Holkin, “Seer Holkin, we have summoned you in light of a number of...recent incidents of late.”

“And what incidents would those be, great Nacaals?” Holkin asked.

Holographic planes then appeared behind the 6 figures, bisected by Rana’Ori’s throne.

“First and foremost is the matter of...” Rutil paused as information filled one of the screens. “The one known as Celt Kardiae.”

“Yes,” nodded Peruus, her voice soft as silk, “We gather this man is a friend of Enforcer Dorad Elo, the one you and the Seers entrusted to observe and maintain our ancient trail.”

“I am aware of that, my lord,” Holkin nodded. “But what seems to be the problem?”

“Several days ago, Dorad Elo personally asked us to grant Celt Kardiae sanctuary aboard this ship, under his protection.” Vadiri explained.

“However,” Rutil continued with a stern look, “During Enforcer Elo’s debriefing, you acted towards both him and Celt in a manner that does not at all represent the calm, welcoming society this ship was built to support. Surely you are aware of this fact, Seer Holkin?”

“I am,” Holkin grumbled, “Great...Nacaals.”

Tauran sighed, as if ashamed to continue, “Then you should also know that because of this and similar incidents of late, your position as Seer hangs in the balance.”

That made Holkin jump. “What?!” he coughed, “Well, what do you mean, sir?”

“Yesterday,” Peruus answered, “We interviewed both Seers Lunicus and Gane’Ara before you, and they agree that crew morale has dropped considerably,” crew transcripts and video records scrolled by as proof on the displays, “From their reports, it seems the Engineers have made no secret of your harsh treatment of Celt. Very little of the crew feel compelled to work under your supervision, more still claim to work with no goal in mind, and your two colleagues can only do so much.”

“Rumors are rumors, aren’t they?” Holkin shrugged.

“You fail to understand, Seer Holkin,” huffed Rutil. “Have you not told the crew to prepare for the Event?”

“The...Event?” Holkin cleared his throat. Suddenly he remembered a part of his mission that had gone gravely overlooked in his observation of Earth. “Forgive me. I...must have missed the latest memorandum.”

Several Nacaals looked disappointed at that.

Holkin noticed Princess Rana’Ori glaring at him like how a mother looks at a misbehaving child. He could hear her pet lion growling softly as she stroked its mane with her left hand.

“Holkin,” Seorus finally spoke, “We know times have been difficult of late, for us and for those on Earth. But if you care for your crew, help them prepare for what is to come.”

“I...” Holkin paused to gulp, “I have done my best to instruct the crew. But what of the Cities below? Have I not also instructed our best agent in maintaining your trail for that same purpose?”

“Those matters belong only to Enforcer Elo and the Chosen Ones,” Celura answered, “We have already seen that they are quite capable of looking after themselves. Please do not change the subject!”

“Yes, my lord,” He grumbled.

Holkin could see his claims were going nowhere, but he found himself rigidly gripping the rail of the lectern.

Finally, the Nacaals gave Holkin another long glance, then Rutil commanded, “Be warned, Seer Holkin. Overseeing the _Colombea_ is your only duty, and that duty can be withdrawn. Do you acknowledge this?”

Suddenly, Holkin felt a twinge in his heart, and he blurted out, “Great Nacaals! My father Dolhom raised me to do no less than the best at all tasks! He always said, ‘Achievement is a blessing, but failure is a sin!’”

Peruus softly interrupted, “Please calm yourself, Seer. We know that responsibility can be a great challenge, but there are many avenues to a healthier mind aboard your vessel.”

Virida glumly nodded, “And Holkin, we acknowledge that your father was a great war hero, but such things must be left in the past. It does not do to project one man’s expectations onto all people of this ship.”

But Holkin made a grave mistake by speaking this on impulse: “Are you criticizing the bloodline of Mu?! You know nothing of what my family was raised to expect!”

Then the Nacaals collectively gasped with shock. Princess Rana’Ori broke her silent gaze as she stood, raised her left arm, and swiped it across, simultaneously slapping Holkin across the face with her psychic force.

“Enough!” Rutil finally shouted.

He nodded to Tauran, who pointed one finger at Holkin as he declared, “Seer Holkin, consider this your final warning! Should you continue to endanger the safety of this ship or its crew, you shall henceforth be stripped of rank and returned to cryo for the remainder of our voyage! Do you understand?!”

Holkin strained to keep his fright from showing, and he cleared his throat and answered, “Y-Yes, my lords!”

“Then leave us,” commanded Celura, waving him off.

Vadira bitterly added like a hurt grandmother, “And do not cross us again.”

Thus, Holkin turned around and sullenly walked out of the throne room, the lumino-projections fading out one by one. As he approached the door, feeling the burning mark from the Princess' invisible hand, he could hear her lion make one last snarl in his direction.


End file.
